


Gimme Shelter

by SaenaLife



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Depression, F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Grief, Marijuana, Mention of Past Abuse, Oral Sex, Spoilers through season six, blowjob, relationship fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-05 02:05:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 64,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4161534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaenaLife/pseuds/SaenaLife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters are faced with a vengeful enemy, a deadly curse, and a woman who could become a powerful new ally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place some time after episode 6.21 Let It Bleed, in a canon-friendly AU of mine, where Bobby doesn't die (because Bobby will NEVER BE DEAD in my stories).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything in the Supernatural canon or any of the song lyrics. Everything else is mine.
> 
> By the way, it's rated Explicit, but pretty much all the smutty bits are located in two later chapters (I'll be sure to label which ones when I get there).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something's abducting and eating children. When it comes to figuring out what it is and how to stop it before it strikes again, help comes from an unexpected source.

**"If I don't get some shelter, oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away..."**

\- Gimme Shelter, Rolling Stones, 1969 

 

 

PORTLAND, OREGON

Powell's Bookstore

August 29, 2011 10:22 a.m.

 

_Queen of the Night, Cailleach Visions, Goddess of the Grove . . ._

“Excuse me, can you tell me where I can find books about Pacific Northwest monster myths?”

A deep voice disturbed Fia Armstrong's perusal of the books on Celtic goddess mythology. She looked up, coming face to face with the buttons on a green plaid flannel shirt. Fia looked a little farther up and discovered a handsome man in his late-20s looming over her, though it was clear from his posture that he was doing his best not to look intimidating. He gazed at her, waiting.

Scanning the nearby shelves, Fia spotted a small label marked “Northwest Tribal Myths”. Gesturing toward it, she suggested, “I'm no expert, but I think that's where you want to start.”

Startled, he focused on her more closely. “Not an expert? Don't you work here?”

“No, why would you think that?”

“You're standing next to a loaded book cart, holding a massive pile of books. I assumed you were shelving them.” His smiled flashed. “Wrong, huh? Sorry about that, thanks for the help.”

She returned the smile. “No problem. I hope you find what you're looking for.”

He didn't move off to inspect the other section, as she'd expected. Instead, he scrutinized the books in her arms, then looked back up at her. “Actually, I think you might be able to help me. Are those really all your books?” He offered his hand to her. ”My name is Sam, by the way.”

Shifting the books to one arm and taking his hand, she replied, “I'm Fia, and yes, they are all mine. At least they will be once I pay for them.” She studied him with care. He wasn't ringing any of her alarm bells; no harm in finding out what he wanted. “Why do you ask? And what did you mean, you think I can help you?”

“Based on those, I'd say you have a pretty strong interest in mythology, magic, and...”, he pointed to one large tome with “Indigenous Societies of the U.S.” blazoned on its spine, “I'm guessing Native American cultures. I'm looking for a specific kind of myth and I'm in kind of a hurry, so maybe I could just pick your brain for a sec?”

“Why not? I'll help if I can.”

“I'm looking for information on myths about child cannibalism.”

“Interesting topic. Do you mean cannibals who eat children or children who eat people?”

“Uh yeah, it's the first one, monsters that eat kids.”

Fia took note of the second use of the word 'monster', surreptitiously scrutinizing him while she answered. “There is a history of cannibalism in the area, same as most places, though young victims is pretty unusual. Off the top of my head, I can only remember one myth like that, a tribal story from southwest Canada. It said that something called Basket Woman carried off unruly kids in her giant basket, taking them to her lair to be eaten.”

He focused on her, intent. “Did the story say anything about how to kill her?”

She stared back at him for a long second. “Tell me something, Sam. Do you always carry salt?”

Startled, he spoke without thinking. “How'd y. . . I mean, what are you talking about?”

“You know what I'm talking about. I heard plenty of stories about hunters from my grandma. You match the description to a T.”

He gave the innocent act one more try. “What do you mean, hunter? I buy my meat at the store like everyone else.”

“C'mon, Sam. You came here looking for information on how to kill a child-eating monster. Meanwhile, an hour away, three kids have gone missing from their bedrooms in the middle of the night and at least one set of gnawed bones has turned up. This has hunter written all over it.” Before Sam could do more than open his mouth, Fia interrupted, shaking her head with an impatient look. “Don't bother denying it. I can see the anti-possession tattoo on your chest, for shit's sake!” He pulled the edges of his shirt together, looking embarrassed. “It's ok, I've got one, too, it's just less obvious.”

“Alright, I give up.” Sam raised his hands in mock surrender, earning a quick smile from Fia. “Yes, I'm a hunter, and I need to stop whatever this is before more kids die. Got any suggestions?”

“I can't remember anything about killing or stopping the Basket Woman. I do vaguely recall one story about children who escaped her. Let's see what we can find.” She gestured at the nearby shelf. “If we don't find anything there, they have an amazing rare book section here, maybe we can check that out.” Without examining why she felt the need to get involved , Fia made herself a member of Sam's research team.

As it turned out, the books on the open shelves were singularly unhelpful, providing only the bare bones of the story as she already knew it. On the other hand, they had more luck with the rare books. One old volume, containing stories dictated by a member of the Skagit tribe to a missionary in the early 1800s, told of how a group of clever children had escaped Basket Woman. At first glance, they could find nothing specific about killing the monster, save one bewildering reference noting that Basket Woman could be “burned by the forked tongue.”

Sam was frustrated. “That does me no good!”

“Relax. Let me pay for my books, then we can plan your next move.” Fia added the old book to her stack and headed to the cashier.

As they waited in line, Sam's stomach growled audibly. He smiled, sheepish. “Guess I'm hungry.”

“Me, too. Breakfast was a long time ago. Why don't we grab some lunch? I saw a diner down the block that I was going to check out.”

“Sounds good.” His phone rang. With a quick smile, Sam stepped away to answer it. “Hey Bobby, find anything at the library?”

He finished his call just as Fia was lugging her heavy bag of books off the counter. Before she could react, Sam had taken the bag from her and turned toward the door. With a shrug, she beat him there and opened the door for him.

“That was my friend Bobby on the phone. He's here working the case with me.” Sam squinted in the sunlight as they stepped onto the sidewalk and turned toward the restaurant. “Kind of an old coot, but a good guy. You'll like him. He's on his way over here. Maybe between the three of us, we can figure this thing out.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Sam and Fia settled into the booth and picked up menus. Peering at her over the top of his, Sam wrinkled his brow in puzzlement.

“I gotta know, why are you so cool with all of this? You don't seem like a hunter, but you said you have an anti-possession tattoo, so you're definitely not a civilian, either. What gives?”

Distracted from her internal debate (french dip vs. cheeseburger), Fia glanced up and grinned. “No, not exactly a civilian, although today is the closest I've ever been to an actual hunter. My grandma, though, she had plenty of experience with the breed. She didn't hunt; she just worked with hunters for a lot of years, before I was born. When I was a kid, she used to tell me some pretty hair-raising stories!”

“Worked with hunters? What do you mean?”

“Mostly research, occasionally some spellwork. She had a wide variety of interests and more books than anyone I've ever seen.” There was warmth and affection in Fia's voice and her eyes grew distant with memory.

Sam noticed and felt a twinge of envy. “You sound like you loved her a lot.”

“The feeling was mutual. She raised me after my parents died.” Although the memory dimmed the light in her eyes somewhat, her voice was matter of fact.

“How old were you when they died?”

“Thirteen.” Fia's hand clenched into a fist where it lay on the table. Sam didn't think she was even aware of it.

“Man, that had to be rough.”

She nodded. “It was.” Glancing up, Fia saw so much empathy in Sam's eyes that she blinked in sudden understanding. “You lost your parents, too, didn't you?” She stifled an unexpected urge to touch his hand in commiseration. It wasn't like her to go beyond a handshake with any but her closest friends.

“I never knew my mom; she died when I was a baby. My dad died a few years ago.” Sam frowned, remembering. “I hardly saw him the last couple years he was alive. We disagreed on how I should spend my life, so I basically just took off. We'd just started to patch things up and then he was gone.”

This time, Fia went with the impulse and laid her hand lightly over his for a moment. “I'm sorry. It's terrible to feel robbed of everything that might have been.”

“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.” Sam shook himself free of the moment as the waiter approached, a pitcher of water in his hand.

Smiling, he deftly filled their glasses. “What can I get you two today? Or do you need another minute?”

Sam closed his menu. “I'm ready.” The waiter set down the pitcher and pulled a pad and pencil from his apron.

Biting her lip in thought, Fia considered her choices again. “You go ahead and order, I need another second.”

“I'll have the turkey on wheat, skip the cheese, and a side salad, Italian dressing.”

“You got it. Anything to drink?'”

“Just coffee, thanks.” Sam handed over the menu.

The waiter turned to Fia. “And for you?”

“How are the burgers here?'

“Fantastic, juicy inside and a little bit of char on the outside.”

She handed him the menu. “Well, I can't pass that up, can I? I'll have a bacon cheeseburger, medium, and I want to substitute curly fries for the regular ones. And an IPA.”

“No problem. Anything else?”

“What's the best pie you guys serve?”

“Nobody can touch our strawberry rhubarb, baked fresh this morning,” he bragged.

“Mmm, sounds good. I'll let you know on that.”

As the waiter departed, Sam looked at Fia, amusement written all over his face.

She wondered if there was a smudge on her nose or something. “What? What's that look?”

“You just reminded me of my brother. That's exactly the kind of thing Dean would have ordered if he was here, right down to the pie.”

“I'm usually too full at the end of the meal to order dessert, but I like to know what my options are. For homemade strawberry rhubarb, I might have to put half my burger in a doggy bag, so I can save room for pie.”

“Now that's where you differ. He'd eat the whole thing and maybe two pieces of pie. For breakfast.”

“Wow, I'm not _that_ hardcore. Your brother sounds like a real character.”

“You could say that.” Sam snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “So tell me more about your grandma. You said spellwork. Was she a witch?”

“Please, Sam, _please_ tell me you understand the difference between a witch and a Wicca.” There was a certain amount of resignation in Fia's words. She'd dealt with plenty of people who didn't and it was exhausting.

“Sure, I get it.” Pausing to return Fia's relieved smile, he went on. “She was a Wicca? That makes a lot more sense, anyway. You just don't give off the witchy vibe.”

“Yes, Grandma Ailsa was a Wicca. Actually, she was an adept and quite powerful, though I didn't know that at the time. I came to understand as I got older and met others in the Craft.”

“Did you inherit her talent?”

“I'd like to think so, some of it at least. I can't imagine I'll ever be her equal, but that's okay. I'm my own Wicca and each of us is unique. Her memory inspires me to push myself, to strive to be more than I was before.”

“Be more?”

“Learn more, think more, feel more. It's not that who I am isn't good enough, far from it. I _like_ me.” Fia's smile was sunny. “Grandma Ailsa showed me something of what I could be, though and I like that, too. Some days, I strive toward that and some days, I'm just happy as the me of now. That was one of her gifts to me.”

“She sounds pretty amazing.” Sam's voice trailed off while their food and drinks were delivered. With a casual gesture, he snagged a hot fry from her plate and popped it into his mouth, then caught himself and looked up in embarrassment to find Fia watching him with a small smile. “Damn! Sorry, force of habit. I always steal one from Dean.”

She had to chuckle at the flustered look on Sam's face. “It's no problem, I don't mind sharing.”

Struggling to regain his composure, Sam picked up his sandwich. “Tell me about the rest of your family.” He took a huge bite while waiting for her answer.

“I don't have any other family living. They're all gone.” Fia nibbled on a fry, trying not to let the question and its answer ruin her appetite.

“Yeah, except for my brother, my family's all gone, too.” Sam's look turned inward, memories of the deaths of his family and friends crowding through his head. He spoke again suddenly. “You know, it really _sucks_ to watch everyone you care about die, one after the other. You start to think maybe it's your fault they're dead.”

“Because you're the common factor.” Fia nodded in pained sympathy. “I know exactly what you mean.”

Surprised, Sam studied her eyes. “You really do know, don't you?”

“Yes, I really do.”

He lifted his coffee to her in a toast. “Here's to us, the guilt-ridden survivors.”

“Hear, hear.” Raising her beer in return, Fia sipped. “Wow, that conversation got deep, fast. You know, Sam, I've never told anyone I felt that way. I'm not exactly the most outgoing person you'll ever meet. I'd chalk it up to the “confess to a stranger” impulse, except that you don't seem like a stranger to me.”

“I know what you mean. I don't know anything about you, not really, but I feel like I just ran into an old friend that I've never met before.”

“That's exactly it. Maybe we knew each other in a previous life.” Fia smiled, not entirely joking.

Whatever Sam had been about to reply was cut off by a man's voice calling his name from the doorway. Fia looked up to see an older man with a beard and a well-worn trucker's cap on his head approaching their table. She smiled as he nudged Sam over and flopped down into the booth next to him. “You must be Bobby.” She offered her hand. “It's nice to meet you. I'm Fia.”

Smiling, Bobby shook her hand and said, “Nice to meet you, too, Fia. That short for Sophia? I always had a thing for Sophia Loren.”

Fia gave a small laugh. “Nope, not Italian and not short for anything. It's actually a Scottish name, it means 'dark of peace'.”

“Hey, I like that. Poetic, don'tcha think, Sam?”

“Yeah, it's really pretty.” With a quick smile at Fia, Sam got down to business. “Anyway, like I told you, Bobby, Fia tracked down a myth that might be the lead we've been looking for.” He turned to her. “You wanna fill him in?”

Recapping what they knew and what little they'd been able to find out, Fia ended with, “I figured tonight I would go over that book with a fine-tooth comb, see if I can find any other references to a forked tongue or the Basket Woman. If I can't find anything there, I have an extensive library out at my house on the coast. I was going to stay in town a couple more days, but I can head back there tomorrow and see what I can dig up. In the meantime, maybe you two could go out to Rhododendron and talk to the families again, see if there's some link you missed.”

Sam nodded. “I think that's a good id...” His phone rang, interrupting him mid-word. He checked the screen. “Hold on, it's Dean.” Gesturing at Bobby to let him out of the booth, he answered. “Dude, what's taking you so long?” His voice faded as he headed for the entrance.

Fia sent an inquiring look at Bobby. “Dean's his brother, right? Is he a hunter, too?”

“Yep, family business. They usually work together, but when this thing with the kids came up, Dean had to stay behind in Iowa to mop up the last job.” He leaned in and spoke conspiratorially. “Little hint, if you ever play rock-paper-scissors with Dean, pick rock. That boy _always_ picks scissors.” Grinning, he sat back. “Anyway, Sam called me to help him out on this one. He knows I can't stand to see kids get hurt.” Bobby looked at her with equal parts curiosity and caution. “Now I got a question for you. Why are you so keen to help us? Sam said he met you in a bookstore, he didn't say anything about you bein' a hunter. You should be freakin' out right about now.”

“I'm not a hunter, far from it. I write books, mostly about pagan spiritual traditions. But when I was growing up, my grandma told me stories all the time about hunters she used to know.”

“Your grannie was involved in hunting?” Bobby glanced up as Sam returned, but kept his focus on Fia as he slid over to make room.

“She did her best to stay as uninvolved as possible, doing stuff like help out with research, or spells sometimes. Whatever she could do to help, short of the actual, you know, seeing or being in the same room with monsters. Grandma knew what kinds of things were out there, and she had a family to protect.”

Realization was dawning on Bobby's face. “Wait a sec, you said you had a house at the coast, is it near Cannon Beach?”

Fia was taken aback. “Yeah! How did you know that?”

He ignored the question. “What's your last name?”

“Armstrong. Bobby, what's this all about?”

  
“I don't believe it, your grandma was Ailsa Armstrong! Hell, she was famous in hunter circles. Best damn researcher and spellworker I ever saw or heard of. I met her once, back when I first started hunting. I was working a case with my pal Rufus down in Salem and we were in way over our heads . He called her up and she busted ass into to town to bring us the spell we needed before the whole town went up in flames.”

“I remember that story! You guys were fighting a salamander, right? That was one of my favorites.” Fia looked at Bobby with mischief in her eye. “If it was when you first started, you must be the one she said was “wet behind the ears” and not the one she called “ornery”. You know, Bobby, she really liked you. Said she thought you'd be one of the best someday.”

Bobby actually blushed, much to Sam's amusement. “Yeah, well, she was pretty great herself. Rufus told me she sometimes let hunters who'd been hurt on the job stay at her place until they recovered, which I ain't ever heard of anyone else doing, before or since. I was glad to hear she got outta the biz without needing a body bag. Shame I never got to work with her again.”

Sam reached for the check. “Listen you two, I hate to interrupt old home week, but if we hit the road now, me and Bobby can probably talk to at least one of the families this afternoon. Dean said he should be rolling into town day after tomorrow. If we can kill this thing before he gets here, we might even be able to take some time off.”

Bobby's bark of laughter made heads turn all over the restaurant. “Ha! Time off! That'll be the day.” He leaned forward. “There's a reason hunters don't get vacation time, Sam, and you know it as well as I do. Always more monsters to kill.” Sitting back, Bobby shook his head. “But you enjoy that pretty little fantasy-land you got cooking there. It's as close as you're likely to get to the real thing.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The rare book Fia had purchased made an interesting addition to her personal collection. It did not, however, provide any further information about stopping the Basket Woman. The next morning, she checked out of the hotel and made the drive back home to the coast. There were a lot of books in her library that she hadn't looked at in years, and many she'd never opened at all. Fia had been reluctant to go through them after Grandma Ailsa died. At first, it made the loss too real. Then life had moved on and it just never seemed like the right time to claim those books as her own. If there ever was a time to see exactly what was there, this was it.

Upon arrival at the house, she filled her biggest thermal mug with hot tea and settled into the library to start the search. After an hour, Fia had sorted out a pile of books that looked as though they would prove helpful . Her hands lingered on the covers of a number of fascinating, if currently irrelevant volumes before putting them aside with a sigh. _Soon_ , she promised herself.

Hours later, Fia closed the cover on the last of her initial choices, dismayed and frustrated. She was becoming more than a little afraid that she wouldn't find the answer in time and that more children would die. Images of small, lifeless hands floated through her mind, fingers limp and open, in sharp contrast to her own clenched fists. _Why can't I forget the hands?_

Pushing away from the desk, she wandered down to her grandmother's workroom. This was another place where Fia had been reluctant to delve too deeply, this room and these things that spoke so strongly of the woman who had been such an influence on her life. Though cheerful and well-lit, the lone high window and packed earth floor made it obvious that this was a basement. Grandma used to say it was the best place for spellwork, that it felt like the earth was embracing her when she was down here. At that moment, Fia felt the same way. She felt comforted, as if someone had hugged her and told her it would be alright.

Glancing at the still full shelves, crammed with containers and jars of all kinds, labeled with care in Grandma's tidy handwriting, Fia realized that she might be able to help out in another way. There was a massive stockpile of magical ingredients, some of them extremely difficult to obtain, as well as the most powerful spellbooks in her grandmother's collection. She didn't know how to kill the monster, at least not yet. Maybe she could make up some kind of weapon to slow it down or disable it.

Fia rolled up her sleeves, pulled the most well-used spellbook off the shelf, and got to work.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Sam was deep into research the next morning when a knock at the door pulled him away from the laptop.

“Fia! I didn't expect you to come back into town. I figured you'd just call when you had something for us.”

“I wouldn't have come back, except that I couldn't figure out how to turn this into an email attachment,” she said, dangling a small cloth bag from her finger.

“What's that?”

“It's a hex bag, made specifically to weaken an ogress.”

“An ogress? You mean Basket Woman is an _ogre_? That's crazy! Hey Bobby!” He hollered at the closed bathroom door, where the sink could be heard running. “Quit primping and get out here, you gotta hear this.” Sam turned back to Fia. “We've never had an ogre before. What's next, centaurs?”

“Gods, I hope not, I hear those things are tough!” She kept a straight face as Sam peered at her, trying to decide if she was serious. “Anyway, this thing took some high-powered ingredients, so I expect it to work pretty damn well. It had better, or I wasted all of my ondine's tears and most of my Avalon apple seeds to brew it up, along with my entire stock of crow feathers.”

Sam did a double take. “You had ondine's tears?! And I thought Avalon seeds were a myth. Who has that kind of stuff just laying around the house?”

She looked at him, one eyebrow raised, and said drily, “I'll give you a hint, she and I had the same last name. Like I said, Grandma was an extremely powerful Wicca.”

“Damn, she was a force to be reckoned with, wasn't she?”

“That may be the understatement of the decade. Anyway, after I made that up,” she gestured at the hex bag, “I dug back into the books. I had to go pretty deep, but I finally figured out how to kill Basket Woman.”

“That's great, Fia! Just in time, too. What do we need?”

“Not much, mostly a good-size fire and a stick in the shape of a “forked tongue”. That's what you use to push her into the flames and hold her there. Seems kind of arbitrary, I know, but it's mentioned in a couple of places, so I'd go with it, just to be on the safe side.” Fia looked at him with curiosity. “What did you mean, I'm just in time? What did you find?”

“A link between the families. Two of them visited the same campground on the same weekend, while the other rafted down the river nearby and stopped to picnic there. There's no way we can track down all the rafters, but campers are a different story. The campground records show only one other family with a kid the right age was staying there that weekend. Me and Bobby are gonna stake out their house tonight. Not sure how we're gonna manage the fire in the kid's bedroom.” Sam grinned. “I'm sure we'll figure something out. Thanks Fia, you've been a big help. We owe you dinner after this is done.”

“I'm glad I could help. Be careful, though, okay? We think she only eats children, but don't test that theory. Make sure Bobby gets the message, too. I'll be pissed if one of you dies. It would be a waste of a potential friendship.”

Sam laughed. “I agree. We'll be careful. And I'll call you when it's over.”

The bathroom door opened and Bobby came out, drying his face on a towel. He stopped short in surprise. “Hey Fia, when d'you get here?”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean shows up and then things get complicated.

*    *     *     *    *     *     *    *     *     *    *     *     *   

“You did what?!” Fia set down the glass she’d been about to drink from and stared at Sam in astonishment.

He was a little abashed, but also a little amused at her reaction. “We decided to kidnap the kid first.”

They were sitting with Bobby at the best steakhouse in Portland, celebrating the successful conclusion of the case. Fia looked back and forth between the two hunters.

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because,” Bobby sat forward, signaling for another beer, “we didn’t want to set the poor kid’s house on fire. And I don’t know about you, but wrestlin’ an ogre out of the house and into the fire don’t sound easy and fun.”

Sam finished for him. “We figured we’d get the kid first and use him as bait to draw Basket Woman to where we had a bonfire ready. It would have worked, too, but it turned out we didn’t even need to go into the house.”

“Do tell.” Fia couldn’t wait to hear how this story ended.

Bobby picked up the thread again. “We just got done setting up the fire, hadn’t even lit it yet, when who should come tramping out of the woods at the bottom of the yard?”

“No way!”

“Yes way.” His tone was serious, but Bobby’s eyes sparkled. There was nothing he liked better than a good audience for a story. “She was a gigantic thing, too, near as big as our boy there.” He nodded in Sam’s direction.

“Ha, ha.” Sam turned to Fia. “Anyway, we both had forked sticks, so I went to intercept the Basket Woman while Bobby got the fire going. I’m telling you, Fia, if I hadn’t had that hex bag you made me, she would have taken me down. It was all I could do to hold her off until Bobby could back me up.”

“Between the two of us, we finally got ‘er into the fire and finished it. ‘Course, then we had to hightail it outta there when the family woke up and called the fire department. All in all, another one in the win column.” There was a smile of satisfaction on Bobby’s face that was echoed in Sam’s expression.

Shaking her head in bemusement and wondering how these guys stayed out of jail, Fia raised her drink in a toast. “Well, then I guess to the heroes victorious!”

Bobby lifted his beer. “To no more dead kids!”

Sam joined them. “To new friends!”

They drank in unison before Sam pushed his plate away. “Seriously you guys, I don’t know the last time I ate a steak, much less dessert. But damn, that was good!” He laughed as he surveyed the wreckage on the table. “It’s too bad Dean didn’t get here in time, he would have loved this.”

“Yeah, I was kind of hoping to meet the mysterious Dean. If he’s hanging out with you two, he’s obviously a lost cause.” Her eyes twinkled as Fia smiled into her glass.

Bobby choked a little on his beer when he laughed. “You ain’t kiddin’ there!” he managed between coughs. When he recovered, he added, “Just don’t you go becomin’ a lost cause, too. You keep your distance from all this stuff.” He pinned her with his gaze to make sure she was paying attention.

“I hear you, Bobby. I have no desire to live in fear that some demon is going to hunt me down in my own home. I don’t intend to get any closer to the action than I was this time.”

Sam spoke up. “So you’re going to keep doing this kind of thing?”

Fia smiled ruefully. “How can I not? We saved that kid and maybe a lot of others. I’ve got the know-how and the resources to help save more people. What kind of person would I be to just walk away from that? Plus, I must have inherited the gene from Grandma. I’m hooked now and I don’t think there’s any turning back.”

Bobby’s face fell a little. “I don’t know if I like the sound of that.” He shook his head a little. “But I guess you’re a grown woman, don’t need me tellin’ you how to live your life. Just stay safe, alright?”

“Don’t worry too much, Bobby. Grandma taught me well. I’ll be okay.”

The mood slightly dampened, they decided to call it a night. Crossing the parking lot, they were promising to stay in touch when a sleek black muscle car wheeled into a space near them. A good looking, dark-haired man got out and, spotting them, headed their way.

As Dean crossed the parking lot, he automatically scanned the woman standing next to Sam.  _Not too old, but kinda average_ , he thought with an internal shrug. The judgment and dismissal flashed through his mind so fast that he didn’t even notice it, turning to focus on his brother.

“Damn, you guys are already done?” He frowned at Sam. “And what, no doggy bag?”

Sam grinned, patting his full belly. “Sorry, Dean. And I gotta say, that was one amazing steak.”

“ _You_ had a steak?! Mr. Health Nut, Rabbit Food, Salad McSaladton actually ate a steak and I get squat. Double damn.”

Bobby spoke up, rubbing it in. “Don’t forget the onion rings. Best I ever had, and that’s sayin’ something. Crispy fried heaven, great with a beer.” Impossibly, Dean’s face fell even further.

He looked so sad that Fia laughed and took pity on him. “I’m Fia, by the way, and if you want, we could go over to the food carts and you can ha…”

Her voice trailed off as she realized that none of the guys were listening to her. Instead, their attention seemed to be focused on the other patrons crossing the parking lot. The hair rose on the back of Fia’s neck when she realized that all four of the strangers were converging on them from different points. Terror bloomed in her veins as they got closer and she saw that each one carried an identical long, thin-bladed knife.

By that time, the three hunters had formed a loose circle around her, facing the threat. Somehow, they had managed to produce weapons, between them holding one gun, two knives, and a couple of small squirt bottles.

“Here!” Without taking his eyes off the targets, Sam thumbed the lid off one of the bottles and handed it to her. “Holy water. Those are demons, you know what to do.” She took it, clutching the bottle so hard some of the water spouted out the top.

Dean looked around at the black-eyed figures closing in on them. “What’s with you guys? You join a suicide cult or something? ‘Cause this ain’t gonna end well for you.” He tightened his grip on the ornate knife he held.

One of the demons spoke up. “Doesn’t matter what happens to us. What’s important is what’s going to happen to you!” With that, he launched himself at Dean and battle was engaged.

From Fia’s point of view, it was a confused jumble of struggling bodies and flailing limbs. Apparently, she wasn’t considered a threat, since none of their assailants paid her the slightest attention. She saw that one of them, knife in hand, was sidling up behind Dean, whose attention was all for the demon he was grappling. Fia looked around in the wild hope that Sam or Bobby would be able to help, only to find that they were busy fighting for their own lives.

Bracing herself, she stepped closer and squirted the holy water into the face of the monster about to put its knife in Dean’s back. Roaring in pain, it swung wildly, catching her full in the face with its fist and knocking her to one side. Recovering her balance, Fia saw the first demon fall to the ground in front of her and looked up to see the second one, face smoking, square off against Dean.

Bobby’s gun went off several times as he emptied the chambers into the face of the demon in front of him, successfully disabling it for the moment. Fia jerked her head around and watched as, not taking any chances, he flipped the empty gun around in his hand and used the butt to cave in the demon’s skull. “That oughta hold him for a minute,” he muttered, turning to help Sam.

Dean grunted as the demon slammed an elbow into his gut, then threw him hard against a nearby car, setting off the alarm. Managing to keep a grip on his knife, Dean jumped back to his feet, just in time to slam the knife into the demon’s chest. As the fires of hell flickered in its face, the demon grinned at Dean and breathed “Gotcha!” before it died.

“Gotcha? What the fuck does that mean? You’re dead, dumbass!” Wrenching his knife from the body, Dean tossed it to Sam, who quickly dispatched the demon he and Bobby were wrestling, followed by the wreck Bobby had left on the ground.

“Hey, you’re bleeding!” Gingerly touching her nose to make sure it wasn’t broken, Fia nodded toward Dean’s left forearm, where a long, shallow cut was bleeding freely.

He looked it over. “Just a scratch. I’ve had worse shaving.”

Fia glanced around, noticing the car alarm for the first time. “You know, with that alarm and the gunshots, we better get the hell out of here before the cops show up.”

Sam handed the demon knife back to Dean, then stooped to take one of their attackers’ blades from a dead demon. “That’s not our only problem. Look.” He gestured around them, and Fia saw figures materializing out of the dark, all eyes intent on them. Wait, that was wrong. They were all intent on Dean. And every single one of them had black demon eyes.

“Balls! We need to get outta here, pronto! Sam, you go with Dean, Fia’s with me. We’ll meet up back at the motel and regroup. Now get movin’!” Bobby propelled Fia toward his beat-up old Chevelle.

Sam shrugged. “I guess Bobby’s in charge. Let’s go.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

At the motel, they gathered in Sam’s room. Bobby, ever vigilant, took a post at the window, reloading his gun while keeping a sharp eye on the parking lot. Fia tried to get a grip on herself, resisting the urge to freak out, while Dean and Sam stared at each other in confusion.

“What the hell was that?” Sam pulled the new blade from his jacket and sat on the bed to examine it more closely.

“Man, I don’t know, but I don’t like it. I swear, all those monsters were looking right at me!” Shuddering a little, he flexed his left hand, which drew Fia’s gaze.

“Dean! You’re still bleeding. Let me look at it.” Glad to have something to distract her from the undeniable reality of what she’d seen ( _Demons!_ ), Fia stepped up to him and started to pull the sleeve up.

“I  _told_  you, it’s no big deal…” Dean trailed off as he saw the cut was still bleeding freely, which was weird for such a shallow wound. The other, weirder thing was that it was glowing slightly, a muted blue glimmer, throwing off the occasional vivid spark. “Uh-oh. That can’t be good.”

Bobby straightened suddenly. “It ain’t ‘Oh happy day’ over here either.” He nodded toward the parking lot. “We got company.”

Dean was pissed. “Seriously! What the fuck is going on here?” He grabbed a towel from the bathroom and bound up the wound with a practiced gesture.

Hastily stuffing his gear into a bag, Sam barked, “Right now, it doesn’t matter, let’s just go!”

“They’re comin’ up fast! Only three so far, but I bet there’s more on the way.” Bobby left his post and headed to the connecting door. “Well, c'mon!” He opened it and waved them through, locking the door behind him. Seconds later, they heard banging sounds as the demons tried to smash into the room they’d just left. Hardly breaking stride, Bobby grabbed up a packed duffel bag off the bed and moved to the front door. He noiselessly unlocked it and eased it open a crack. Settling his gun in his free hand, he nodded at Sam and Dean. They slipped past him and up behind the three oblivious monsters, while Bobby shepherded Fia to his car, alert for other threats.

By the time he had the car started, the boys had taken out the surprised demons and were jumping into the Impala. Bobby peeled out of the parking lot and started driving randomly, with Dean close behind. He tossed his cell to Fia. “Here, call Dean and put that on speaker phone, we gotta make a plan.”

Dean’s voice crackled through the phone. “Bobby, please tell me you have some idea what’s happening here!”

“It seems pretty clear.” Fia was a little taken aback that they didn’t see it yet. “Dean just got cursed. I’m willing to bet that cut on his arm is acting like a beacon.”

“Cursed! You have to be kidding me!”

Fia shrugged. “Sorry, guy. Apparently, you are now a demon magnet, at least until we can break that curse.”

“I think she’s right, Dean.” Sam’s voice was tinny through the small speaker. “This knife I picked up has some pretty esoteric symbols on it, it could definitely be a cursed object.”

“Well that’s just great! So now I’m a big, neon Good Eats sign to all the nasties out there. Hooray, I haven’t been through that particular hell yet.”

Bobby interjected. “Worse than that. Think about what kind of power it would take to create a curse that can override those Enochian symbols carved in your ribs. You have one serious damn enemy, boy.”

“Just one? Things are looking up.” Dean looked down at his dash. “Scratch that. I figure we’re pretty safe as long as we’re moving, but I’m almost outta gas. We have to stop.”

Sam was exasperated. “Dude, really?”

“Hey, cut me some slack, I just drove here from Iowa!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

A few miles later, they pulled up to the pumps at a Gas-N-Sip. Sam and Bobby kept lookout while Fia ran inside to grab some snacks. Dinner seemed like a lifetime ago. Did being scared for your life make you hungry?

Dean was in the process of pulling the nozzle off the pump when an attendant came trotting out toward him. Tensing up, Sam watched him carefully, but there was no hint of threat in his manner.

“Um, excuse me sir, but you can’t do that.” He was apologetic.

“What? Oh shit, I forgot this was Oregon.” Dean stepped back, waving the guy forward to do his job. “So weird. Fill it up, would ya? And watch the paint, no dribbling!”

Setting up the pump, the attendant headed back inside, where Fia was standing at the back filling a cup with cola slushee. Something dark flickered in the corner of her eye and she glanced toward the door in time to see a cloud of black smoke wind its way in, then split in two and force itself down the throats of both the attendant and the guy behind the counter. Horrified, she watched them both straighten and turn as one to look out to where Dean was impatiently watching the numbers roll by on the pump. Fia stood frozen, terrified their black gazes would turn on her, as the cashier pulled a gun from under the counter and handed a baseball bat to the attendant. They turned in unison and strode purposefully out the door.

The sound of the door buzzer woke Fia from her paralysis. Dropping the half full cup on the floor, she dashed to the exit to see them halfway across the lot and Dean still clueless.

“Demons!” She shouted it from the doorway and was surprised that neither one of them glanced back at her. It was clear that the only thing they cared about was getting to Dean and killing him.

The cashier was marching toward Dean, raising the pistol he held. Before he could aim, a shot rang out and the gun flew from his hand. Astonished, Fia looked over at Bobby, holding his own gun and looking fairly astonished himself. Taking advantage of the moment, Dean shoved his demon knife into the guy’s chest as Sam came around the car and doused the other one with holy water. Blinded, demon number two was an easy kill.

Sam’s face broke out in an enormous grin. “Damn Bobby! That was some nice shooting!” His voice was filled with admiration.

Bobby looked sheepishly at them. “Don’t get too excited, I was aimin’ for his head.”

Frowning down at Fia, Dean remarked, ““Maybe you shouldn’t go anywhere alone from now on. That,” he pointed threateningly at the dead men, “coulda been you.”

Slapping Dean on the shoulder, Sam reassured him. “Nah, Fia’s got the anti-possession tattoo. You don’t have to worry about her.”

Something about the patronizing way Dean looked at her ruffled Fia’s feathers. Her adrenaline was up and she couldn’t resist commenting in a snide tone. “Yeah, Dean, you don’t have to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

“Sure, I bet you face this kinda stuff all the time.” The sarcasm was thick in his voice and Fia’s nerves were stretched thin enough that it made her mad.

“I may not be a big bad hunter, but I’m not a helpless idiot, either!”

Dean shot her a skeptical look. “Why are you even out here?!”

“I’m only out here because  _you_  got yourself cursed!”

“Whatever, we don’t have time to babysit a civilian!”

The sheer injustice of that stopped Fia short for half a second, but she came back strong. “I saved your ass, you arrogant prick! I could have let you get stabbed in the back! How about some fucking gratitude?”

“Gratitude!  _I’m_  lookin’ out for  _you!_  You’re the one should be gr…”

“Okay, you two!” Sam had finally recovered from his shock at how quickly the argument had escalated. “You can bicker later; we don’t have a lot of time." He glanced around them. "This place is out in the boonies, so these two guys might be the only candidates for possession within a couple miles. That gives us ten minutes at the absolute most to figure out what the plan is. You wanna waste it being pissy with each other?”

Dean remained stubbornly silent, so with a disparaging look, Fia spoke up.

“You’re right, Sam. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again. What’s the plan?”

“I don’t know what kinda plan we can make here.” Bobby was worried. “Looks like these guys can track Dean wherever he goes. Ten minutes might be the most time we ever get between attacks. What good is that gonna do us?”

With a wary look in Dean’s direction, Sam shrugged. “I think I have an idea for a temporary fix, but you aren’t going to like it.”

“C'mon Sammy, anything is better than being chased 24-7 until my luck runs out. Out with it!”

“Okay. Back when I was with Ruby, drinking demon blood,” he paused, noting Dean’s grimace and Fia’s appalled shock, “she taught me a lot of stuff, some of it about curses. If this was a minor curse, I think I could just, you know, turn it off. But the way this energy feels, it’s way bigger than anything I’ve seen. I don’t even know if I can affect it at all, but I want to try. Maybe I can hide Dean from the demons somehow.”

Dean’s eyes were narrow as he looked at his little brother. “So you can  _feel_ the energy of the curse, huh? Has that been going on a long time? How many other nasty things can you  _feel_?”

“Damn it, Dean! I don’t like this any more than you do! Do you think I want to remember starting the apocalypse? But this is a chance for me to use my demon blood for something good for once. You gotta let me try!”

Bobby spoke up. “He’s right, Dean. At this point, we need to use whatever weapons we got, or else you die and maybe the rest of us end up dead with you.” He looked at Dean. “You hearin’ me, boy? You let Sam do what he can and don’t give him no grief about it. Do it now, Sam, no time to waste.”

With an apologetic look, Sam held out his hand to Dean. “Let me see your arm.”

Pushing up his sleeve, Dean unwrapped the makeshift bandage. It was drenched with blood. “Damn thing won’t stop bleeding.” Dean tried and failed to keep his uneasiness from showing in his voice.

Sam laid one hand over the cut and closed his eyes. They all stood silently while he grimaced, struggling to grasp the slippery ends of the curse, to force them to his will. Dean’s expression grew strained and his posture as rigid as Sam’s. Finally, with a sigh of relief, Sam dropped Dean’s arm, stepping back so Fia and Bobby could see it. The cut no longer glowed and even as they watched, the flow of blood seemed to dry up. Fia looked up at Sam, her eyes reflecting admiration tinged with fear. This was a level of power that she had no experience with.

When he spoke, Sam’s voice was thin and tired. “I’ve got a grip on it, but it’s not the kind of thing that I can just do once and forget about. I need to focus on it at least a little all the time, or the curse will bust out again. We’re safe for the moment, as long as I can keep from falling over.” He raised a hand to his temple, wincing, his face wan and drained.

Dean wasn’t looking great either, but he pulled himself together. “What now?”

Bobby’s face was grim. “I got no idea. Maybe we can hole up somewhere and put up every ward and protective charm we know. They might hold long enough to give us time to figure out how to break the curse.”

Fia straightened suddenly. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before!”

“What?”

“Besides being brilliant, Grandma was paranoid. You know my house at the coast? When it was hers, she circled that place with every magical protection she could track down, and she was a hell of a researcher. If there’s any place in the world Dean can hide, I’d say that’s it.”

That enlivened Sam a little. “Isn’t that where your library is? And your spell ingredients? Seems like the perfect answer.”

Bobby agreed. “Yeah, if it works, Dean can stay there while me and Sam do the legwork.”

“Now hold on just a damn minute! Don’t think you’re gonna sideline me on this! It’s my life we’re talking about!”

“We know that, Dean!” Sam was tired and low on patience. “Just go with us on this, okay? We’ll figure out the details when we get there.” He turned to look at Fia. “How long is the drive?”

“Hour and a half, about. Plus, I hate to ask this, but I need us to swing back through town and pick up my car. I left my overnight bag, and it has my house keys in it, among other things. I’m sorry, Sam, I know it makes the trip longer.” She looked at him with concern. “Are you going to be able to keep this invisibility cloak going until we get there? I really don’t want a bunch of monsters tracking us to my house if I can help it.”

“I’m pretty sure I can do it,” he winced again, “as long as I have some kind of painkiller for this headache.”

“I bet they have aspirin in there.” Dean stumped toward the Gas-N-Sip. “I’ll get us some road food, too. I’m still starving.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Bobby left his car in a parking garage and rode with Fia, taking the opportunity to give her a condensed version of recent Winchester history and to warn her what kind of jerk Dean was likely to be.

“Dean’s generally got good intentions, but he can be pig-headed, especially when he ain’t in control of things.”

Fia threw him a sardonic look. “I would never have guessed,” she said, one eyebrow raised.

Snorting a little with laughter, Bobby continued. “I cut him as much slack as I think is good for him. Those boys have been to hell and back, both of ‘em.” He decided not to tell Fia just yet that he wasn’t speaking figuratively. That could wait.  _No sense freakin’ her out any more than she probably is already._

“Tell me Bobby, what was all that about Sam drinking demon blood and starting the apocalypse?” Fia shivered. “I’m grateful he could mask Dean’s location, but that was some scary shit he did back there!” Grandma’s stories hadn’t contained anything like what she’d seen tonight.

“It’s a long story, and not all of it’s mine to tell, so I’ll just give you the highlights.” Bobby paused, considering his words. “There was a time, a couple years ago, when Dean wasn’t part of the picture.” Fia drew breath to ask why, but Bobby held up a hand to forestall her. “You’ll have to ask Dean why. That part’s his story.

“Anyway, Sam didn’t think he was ever gonna see his brother again and he was lost without Dean. He got mixed up with a demon named Ruby. That bitch really messed with his head, got him hooked on drinking demon blood. The stuff made him strong enough to exorcise demons with his mind. That’s a helluva temptation for a hunter.

“What he didn’t know was that Ruby was leadin’ him down the primrose path. We all thought the demon Lilith had to be killed so she couldn’t break the final seal to free Lucifer from Hell and start Armageddon. Ruby told Sam he was the only one who could kill Lilith, but only if he drank more and more demon blood. So he did.”

Fia was engrossed. “And did he kill Lilith?”

Bobby nodded sadly. “Yep. It turned out that  _she_  was the final seal, that killing her opened the door to Lucifer’s cage and started the rush to the final battle. That’s how Sam started the apocalypse.”

“But … the apocalypse never happened. Did it?” Her eyes were wide as she glanced over at him.

“Damn close! Too close. But no, it never happened. Sam and Dean stopped it.”

“How did they do that?”

Bobby was glad she couldn’t really see his face. He didn’t like hiding things from her, but it wasn’t really his place to spill all the intimate details. “The final battle was supposed to be this big showdown between Lucifer and the Archangel Michael. The boys figured out how to reopen the cage and push both those motherfuckers into the hole, hopefully for all eternity.”

Fia drove on in silence, stunned by the enormity of Bobby’s story. Those two guys in the car behind her, they had  _saved the world_. It was hard to grasp, especially since they didn’t seem particularly extraordinary. She really liked Sam, but it seemed improbable that he would have anything to do with events as huge as these. He was so down-to-earth. And Dean impressed her as being too busy with himself and his own concerns to be bothered with such a humanitarian effort.

Mentally shrugging her shoulders, Fia reminded herself that appearances are misleading. And that most people don’t know how strong they are until they meet a situation that tests their limits. Obviously, Sam and Dean together had risen to the challenges they’d faced. Maybe they were more than the sum of their parts?

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Dean drove in disgruntled silence as they followed Fia’s car out of Portland. Finally, he couldn’t contain his resentment anymore. “You know, there is not a single thing about this that feels right to me. Who is this chick?” He sent a sharp sideways look at Sam. “You sleeping with her or something?”

“What? No!”

“Not even a little make-out session?”

“Dude, that would be like kissing a sister, or maybe a first cousin. Either way, ew.”

“Then why in the hell do you trust her so much after just a couple of days?”

“Besides my own gut instincts?” Sam held up a finger for each point he made. ”One – Bobby knew her grandmother, said she was a legendary lore researcher, among other things. Two – she knows a ton of lore herself. Three – far as I can tell, she has an amazing library and apparently, a huge inventory of spell ingredients, some of which I didn’t think even existed.”

Dean interrupted. “Yeah, so she’s helpful, I get that. And?”

“And four – she saved my life. If I hadn’t had that hex bag she made against the Basket Woman, I wouldn’t be talking to you now.”

Dean slammed on the brakes, belatedly checking the rearview to make sure no one was coming up behind them. “Now wait just a goddamn minute! Hex bag!!! Are you telling me she’s a witch?! You  _know_ I hate witches!”

“Dammit Dean, I knew you’d react that way. She’s not a witch, she’s a Wicca.”

“Yeah, right, tell me there’s a difference!”

“They’re a whole lot more different than they are alike, even if the skill sets overlap a little.”

“Great, that makes me feel so much better.”

“Dean, I’m asking you to trust my judgment on this. If you can’t do that, trust Bobby’s. Now start driving or we’ll lose them!”

Dean grudgingly pressed down on the gas. “Let me get this straight. The second I hit town and meet up with you and Willow up there,” gesturing with his chin toward the car ahead of them, “I get hit with the craziest-ass curse we’ve ever seen and this “Wicca” you  _just_   _met_  happens to have a safe house where I can hide out? And you don’t think that’s a suspicious coincidence?”

“No, I think it’s the best break we could have gotten.”

“So you want me to trust her, stay alone with her out in the middle of nowhere, while you and Bobby go gallivantin’ around without me?”

“In a word, yes.”

“Son of a bitch.” Dean shook his head, unable to see another option. “Alright! But if I see any baby skulls or jars of body fluids, I’m gankin’ her.”

“Fine! Now just shut up or I won’t be able to keep you hidden until we get there.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's not thrilled about the temporary solution, but he doesn't have a choice.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Fia headed west down the Sunset Highway, driving as fast as she dared, wanting nothing more than to feel safe again after the last few hours. Just after the exit onto Hwy 101, Fia turned down one side road, then another. Finally, she pulled onto a humble single lane with a sign that said Private Road – Keep Out and another one that said NO TRESPASSING.

About half a mile in, she slowed and checked the rearview to make sure only the Impala was behind them. Satisfied, she came to a stop at a completely unremarkable spot and punched the garage door opener that was clipped to the sun visor.

Bobby was impressed when a section of camouflaged fence just ahead swung out to reveal the pale curve of a narrow gravel drive winding off to disappear into the trees. “D'you come up with that? 'Cause if so, marry me!”

“Ah, regretfully, that honor will have to pass me by.” She grinned cheekily at him as she swung onto the hidden road, headlights swinging through the dark forest. “Grandma never quit improving the defenses. I guess you didn't come out here, when you met her before?”

“Nope, it was just that once in Salem. I wish I coulda known Ailsa better.”

Soon, they were pulling up under a giant oak tree standing in front of a big, two story farmhouse with a deep wraparound porch. As he climbed out of the car, Bobby could hear the waves murmuring and looking to the west, saw the light from a slim crescent moon glittering on the ocean.

“Damn. I bet this is beautiful in the daylight.”

“It is.”

Just then, the Impala skidded to a stop, spraying gravel.

“Great, he's in a mood.” He glanced at Fia. “Buckle up.”

She headed to the front door, keys in hand, as the boys got out of the car and grabbed their bags, scanning the area. She opened the door and was deactivating the alarm as they reached the threshold.

Dean glanced around the bright and cheerful entrance. “Not bad for a witch's lair.”

Fia's face tightened, but she kept her voice light, with only the tiniest tinge of irony. “So glad you like it, Dean. Enter and be welcome. You all can drop your stuff here, I'll show you your rooms later.”

Flicking on the lights, she waved them into the great room. As they filed past her, she said “First thing's first. Dean, how's your arm look? Did anything change when you crossed the fenceline back at the road?”

“It seems okay. Sammy dropped his shields once we were on the property and look ma, no glow.” He held up his arm where the cut showed, as fresh and unhealed as when he got it, but still not glowing or dripping blood.

“And you, Sam?” Fia looked at him with concern. “That headache seemed pretty intense.”

“Yeah, well it's mostly gone now. I'll be fine.” Sam's eyes were tired, but he smiled reassuringly.

“Alright, then.” Fia moved into the open kitchen, gesturing toward the bar stools surrounding the kitchen island. “You guys want something to drink? I've got iced tea, I think some lemonade, half a bottle of a nice light rose wine.” She surreptitiously watched Dean's face get longer and longer as she went on. “I could mix up a batch of banana daiquiris...” He was really starting to look worried, so she put him out of his misery. “Oh, and of course there's lots of beer.”

The naked relief on his face made Sam bust out laughing and when Dean glanced over, he could see that both Sam and Bobby had known she was playing him. “All right, ha ha. Yes, I'll have a beer if you don't mind.”

Fia was already emerging from the fridge, four cold bottles in hand. Setting them on the counter, she popped the top on hers and tossed the opener down on the counter, stopping for a long swallow while the others followed suit. When Dean emerged from downing half his beer, he swung around to face Sam and Bobby.

“Okay, I get why you two want me to stay out of the line of fire on this, but I ain't convinced. You know I can take care of myself, and I just can't see me hanging back while you two risk your asses for me.”

Sam set his beer down. “Under normal circumstances, sure. But think about what just happened, Dean. Within, what, _minutes_ of you getting marked, we get buried in an avalanche of bad guys. How are we gonna get anything done if we have to stop every five minutes to kill more monsters?”

“But now we have time to do some research, make some plans. Plus, you handled that curse thing pretty well, can't you just keep doing that?”

“No, Dean, I can't. The truth is that I _had_ to drop the shield once we got here, because I couldn't keep it going anymore. So that's it. At best, I can cover you for a couple hours, tops. You still wanna risk it?”

“Man, I don't know, but I can't stay here! No offense.” he said belatedly to Fia.

“No problem,” she grumbled, but he was already focused on Sam again.

“Dammit, Dean...” Sam started, but Bobby interrupted him.

“Tell you what, this whole damn discussion is pointless until we know more about what in the hell is actually going on here. And I don't know about any of you, but dinner was a long time ago and my stomach thinks my throat's been cut. Fia, what kind of food you got around here?”

“All kinds, and you guys are free to help yourselves. But first I need to set down some rules, the same ones Grandma had for hunters when they stayed here. First off, I want you to feel at home, but I'm not your housekeeper, your cook, or your mother. So when you're hungry, go ahead and make yourself something to eat, but when you're done, clean up after yourself. That goes for the rest of the house, too. The only place off-limits is my room. Second, you're welcome to make use of the library, but I will seriously lose my shit if you damage or take anything in it, so just don't. Those are the major points. If I think of anything else, I'll let you know.”

Sam asked, “Then who's cooking? Not it!”

“Not it!”

“Not it!”

Bobby pushed himself off his stool with a sigh. “Oh, alright, I guess I still know how to use a can opener.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

It was nearly 3 in the morning by the time they finished eating. By mutual agreement, they called it a day and Fia showed everyone to their rooms. Within minutes, the house was dark and silent, but Dean still couldn't sleep. The wound on his arm prickled under the clean bandage Sam had wrapped around it, continually reminding him that he was most likely trapped here for the duration.

Tossing the blankets back in frustration, he sat up and planted his feet on the floor, muttering to himself. “Might as well look around.”

Slipping out of his room, Dean debated. Start at the top of the house, or the bottom? Anything ugly was more likely to be in the basement, so he might as well clear out the upper floors first. Turning toward the stairs, he headed to the attic space, cautiously testing each stair to make sure it didn't creak. If Sam woke up and caught him sneaking around, he'd never hear the end of it.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he was surprised to find it was one big room, and not the creepy attic he expected. Looked like a game room - surround sound home theater, video game systems, pool table, _and_ ping pong table. Dean was impressed. Whatever else the witch was, she liked to be entertained. Nothing weird here, so he headed back downstairs.

Leaving the bedrooms for tomorrow, he did a quick check of the other doors. Bathroom, laundry room, linen closet, nothing questionable there either. A sweep of the main floor turned up the same normal, everyday rooms and contents he would expect in any non-witch house. The basement then.

“Ah-ha!” The sound of his own voice startled him, but the sight of the spellwork room made him think he'd hit the witchy jackpot. An hour later, after thoroughly looking over the room, reading all the labels and checking to make sure the spellbooks actually contained the white magic that their titles proclaimed, Dean was forced to admit defeat, at least temporarily. If he ended up staying here, he'd damn well be checking out the rest of the house, as well as the outbuildings he'd seen in the headlights when they drove up. But for now, he guessed he'd have to accept that Fia was no more than she appeared - a suspiciously helpful Wiccan.

Shaking his head, Dean climbed the stairs to his room, determined to get his four hours of sleep so he could be rested for the argument with Sam and Bobby that he knew was coming in the morning. Even if she wasn't a witch, he wasn't staying here without a fight.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The next morning, immediately after breakfast, the four of them hunkered down in the library to see what they could dig up. The only clue they had was the knife Sam had picked up in the parking lot and the sigils etched into the blade.

After a couple hours, Sam turned a page and grunted in recognition. “Hey guys, get this.” He held up the book and there on the page was a larger version of the central glyph. He turned the book back around and read from the page. “Says here the symbol represents the word or concept of 'signal' in ancient Aramaic. And this symbol just below it, that means something along the lines of 'to dark things'. Basically, like we coulda guessed, it's a magnet for any demons within a...” he scanned the text, “say, 10 mile radius.”

“Well that's just freakin' terrific!” Dean briefly tried to calculate how many demons that might be, but soon gave up in frustration.

“This spell doesn't say anything about those two matching symbols on either side, though. Let me keep looking.” He dove back into the book, flipping pages for another few minutes before stopping on one and reading intently. “Oh shit,” he breathed.

“What?”

“It looks like these spells can actually be combined by drawing the various glyphs together to get the result you want.”

“Get to the point, professor.” Dean was impatient, as usual.

“The point is that these two symbols represent a spell for binding the fate of one person to the fate of another, but it only works on certain people. 'Those who would die for each other shall share fates'. ”

“My god, that's you two all over!” Bobby's voice was filled with dismay and irritation.

“Exactly.” Sam shifted to look his brother in the eye. “You know what this means, right? If you die, I die. I know you'd be out there risking your own life, but I also know that you won't risk mine that way. You're staying here until we figure this thing out.”

“Fuck.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Fia and Sam went into the kitchen to put something together for lunch. The second they were alone, Dean swiveled to focus on Bobby.

Bobby didn't look up from his book. “I know what you're gonna say, and the answer's no.”

“Hey, I wasn't gonna say anything! But while we're on the subject - Bobby, you gotta figure out a way for me to come with you guys. I can't stay here! You guys trust her, but I don't know Fia from Lady Gaga, and the witchy stuff gives me the heebie jeebies.”

“Kid, if you knew anything about her grandma, you'd trust her, too.”

“Remember my grandfather? Sometimes the apple falls way the hell away from the tree.”

“My gut says to trust her, and she's given me no reason to think that's wrong. In fact, she's impressed the hell out of me. I hate to see her getting sucked into this life, but if she does keep with it, she's gonna save a lot of hunters' lives.”

“I'm sure she's aces, but I still don't trust her.”

“Well then trust me, for fuck's sake!” It was clear that Bobby had reached the end of his admittedly small store of patience. He waved a hand irritably toward the door. “Whyn't you take a walk or something? I can't get anything done with you pesterin' me!”

“Fine!” Dean got up from his chair.

“Fine!” Bobby didn't look up.

“Fine!” Getting in the last word, Dean marched out the door.

“Fine!”

Pretending he hadn't heard Bobby's last retort, Dean headed across the kitchen, glancing at Fia. “Okay if I look around a little?”  
She nodded. “No problem. I can give you a full tour later if you want.” She turned back to the cutting board. “Food'll be ready in about 20 minutes.”

Sam watched Dean stride out the back door before turning to Fia with a hesitant air.

“Hey, uh, could I talk to you for a sec?”

Setting down her knife, she turned to face him, intrigued. “Of course. What's up?”

“Listen, I saw your face back there at the Gas-N-Sip. You have every right to be disgusted and maybe a little scared. But I want you to know that I don't do that stuff anymore. I'm clean, I swear.”

There was so much shame in Sam's expression that Fia's heart went out to him. “I believe you, Sam. I'm not afraid of you.” She put a comforting hand on his arm.

He laughed sourly. “Yeah, maybe you should be. I am the guy that started the apocalypse!”

“And ended it, from what I hear. You and Dean? You're heroes!”

“There was _nothing_ heroic about it!” Sam's tone was savage. “I screwed up so bad that the world almost ended! Everything after that was just cleaning up my own mess.”

“Bobby didn't tell me everything, but he did tell me how Ruby set you up, how she took advantage of you when you were lost and alone. It's not entirely your fault.”

“Oh, there's plenty of blame to go around!”

“Fine. So you made a _huge_ mistake. I'll grant you that. But then you fixed it, right?” Fia went back to her work, but smiled sideways at him. “You saved the world, Sam. Try to remember that part of it, too.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Stepping out on the porch, Dean breathed deep, glad to be alone with his frustration. Not to mention the chance to look the place over, see if anything looked fishy. As he studied his surroundings, he realized that he hadn't seen it by daylight before and he was taken aback at how freakin' gorgeous the place was.

From the top porch step, he could look out across a small meadow sheltered on three sides by the surrounding forest. Golden grass waved in the breeze all the way up to where it looked like the ground just dropped away. Beyond that edge, he could see the variously blue surface of the ocean, sparkling in the sunlight. Resisting the temptation to go and look down into what had to be a tiny cove, he turned instead toward the nearest building, a small greenhouse.

There weren't a lot of places to hide sorcerous materials inside, but he checked it thoroughly, probing the floor, checking for false bottom pots. Nothing but dirt and plants. Time to see what was behind door number two. That turned out to be a large garage/storage shed. Disappointingly, no hidden spaces containing something heinous enough to justify his getting out of here.

One more chance. Dean crossed his fingers, hoping for something really bad, and felt his spirits rise when the door on the final building was locked. Must be something worth hiding in there. Glancing back at the house, he pulled out his lockpick and made short work of the obstacle. Slipping inside, he looked around eagerly for the satanic altar he hoped would be there. No such luck.

It was an open room, with tall ceilings, skylights, and wall to wall windows facing west, east, and south. In the flood of sunlight, he could see an easel with a covered painting on it and a sheet draped over a mysterious shape on a sculpting stand. Finished works decorated the room. Next to the front door, stairs led up to a loft. He discovered that the door below the stairs opened into a large, well-equipped photographic darkroom. The loft had a kitchenette, a small bathroom, and a cozy sitting area with a view out over the ocean. And, just like everywhere else, nothing even remotely interesting to him.

Giving it up, Dean relocked the door behind him and headed back to the house. Maybe Fia really was aboveboard. He decided to keep an eye on her, just in case, but to focus the rest of his attention on finding a way to break the curse, since that was obviously the only way he was ever going to be free again.

He came through the back door to find the rest of them around the kitchen island, eating grilled cheese and tomato soup. Damn, he'd loved that as a kid. Grabbing a bowl from beside the stove, he started ladling some up and heard Fia speak behind him, her voice calm and dry.

“You know, if you wanted to look at my paintings, you could have asked. I've got nothing to hide.”

Deciding to brazen it out, he turned around, bowl in hand. “You did say we could make ourselves at home, right? Well, breaking into places is how I feel at home.”

Sam laughed. “That's true enough.”

Fia's gaze never left Dean's face, but he couldn't quite make himself apologize for invading her privacy. He sat down at the table in silence.

Bobby did it for him. “I'm sorry, Fia, I thought I taught them _some_ manners, at least. Guess I was wrong.” He smacked Dean's arm, making him drop his spoon and splash soup on his shirt. Wisely deciding to say nothing, Dean wiped it up with a napkin and continued eating.

“It's okay, Bobby. Silk purse, sow's ear, I understand.” Fia took her dishes to the sink and rinsed them. “So what's the plan now?”

Scraping up the last of his soup, Sam answered. “I figure I'll head down to Stanford. When I was there, I took a class from this one professor, an expert on Aramean culture and language. He really knew his shit. I checked and he still works there. Maybe he can help us track down something on breaking the curse.”

“I'm gonna head back to my place.” Bobby smiled at Fia. “You got a hell of a library, but I still have a few books you don't. They're worth checking out.”

Dean struggled to keep the resentment from his voice. “And if those don't pan out, what then?”

With a cautious look at Dean, Sam chose his words carefully. “I hate to be the one to say it, but maybe we could get Cas to help.”

Dean rounded on him. “Damn it, Sam, you know we can't trust him! He's working with Crowley, for fuck's sake! For all we know, _he_ did this to get on King Demon's good side. Cas is not an option and I don't wanna hear his name again.”

Bobby shrugged. “Then we just keep lookin'. You know how this works, Dean, one thing leads to another and eventually we figure it out. Just sit tight here. In fact, you can keep diggin' through those books,” he gestured at the door to the library, “maybe there's somethin' there we missed.”

“Alright, if busy work is my only option, I guess I'll take it.”

“Don't worry, you won't be out of the game for long.” Sam tried to be reassuring. “Before you know it, things'll be back to normal.”

“I'll believe that when I see it.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Sam and Dean stood next to the Impala. Reluctantly dropping the keys into Sam's outstretched hand, Dean gave his brother a hard look to go with them.

“You know the drill. It's bad enough you're takin' Baby on the road without me, but if she comes back with so much as a scratch on her, so help me God...”. He left the threat unspoken, sure that Sam got the point.

“I know, I know. You get more neurotic about it all the time, you know that?” Smiling, Sam turned to holler up at Bobby standing on the porch with Fia. “You comin', old man?”

“Hold yer water, I'll be right there!” He turned back to her as they descended the steps. “And you, good luck not killing Dean. He's a good man, but when he sets his mind to it, he can be the most aggravating SOB you ever met. But I think you can handle 'im.” He put an arm around her. “We'll be back to take him off your hands as soon as we can. Meantime, you take care of yourself.”

Fia held up a hand. “I'll need to come out to the gate with you, so I can open it.”

Sam heard her and looked up, puzzled. “We can't open it manually?”

She shook her head. “Grandpa was a tinkerer and, like I said, Grandma was kind of paranoid. She made him rig it so that it could only be opened with one of two remotes. I'll just ride out with you and walk back.”

Heading for the car, she passed Dean. Sighing heavily, he turned back to the house. “Well, if you need me, I'll be in my cell, I mean, my room.”

Staring after him, Fia shook her head. “I can tell this is going to be loads of fun.” With a deep sigh of her own, she climbed into the Impala for the short ride to the gate.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is stuck and he doesn't like it one bit.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Dean spent most of the afternoon sulking in his room, eventually coming downstairs to make himself a sandwich, grab a beer, and head into the library. Sitting at the kitchen table with her laptop, Fia heard his yelp of surprise and a crash. She rushed to the door to see what was going on.

She found him still clutching his beer, staring down at the grey velvet cat hunched up in the desk chair, the sandwich on the floor mixed in with pieces of broken plate. The cat was staring right back at Dean with a look of resentful outrage. Obviously, Dean hadn't known the chair was occupied when he tried to sit down. Deciding to save them both from further upset, Fia crossed the room and scooped the cat up in her arms. After one more hostile glance at the interloper, the cat turned away and nuzzled its head under her chin.

“Where the hell did that thing come from? How do you have a cat?”

Fia managed not to roll her eyes. “The usual way. He lives here, I feed him, that's about it.”

Dean dropped into the now-empty chair and took a swig of beer. “No, I mean I'm allergic to cats. I shoulda known within ten minutes of being here that you had one. But nothing, no reaction.”

“Liath here is a Russian Blue. They produce less of the protein that causes allergic reactions, so a lot of people with allergies can be around them. Wanna pet him?” She held the cat out.

He looked doubtful, but interested. “I guess.” Dean tentatively stretched out a hand to stroke the cat's back, only to have it snarl and swipe a claw at him.

“Ouch! Damn it!”

“No, bad cat!” She scolded the cat, then dropped him to the floor, whereupon he promptly made his exit. “I'm sorry, Dean, he's usually really friendly! Are you bleeding?”

He was looking at his hand and brought one finger up to his mouth. “Yeah,” he said, sucking on the scratch, “and it _stings_. Little bastard.” He darted a malevolent look at the door where Liath had disappeared.

“Well, if you don't try to sit on him anymore, I bet he forgives you and you two become good friends.”

“Doubt it.”

Fia laughed. She couldn't really blame Dean for being a little mad. “There's band-aids and antiseptic in the bathroom if you need it.” Heading for the door, still chuckling to herself, Fia thought maybe this whole thing wouldn't be so bad. That is, until she heard him mutter to himself as she left.

“What is it with witches and cats?!”

Again with the witch stuff! _Please hurry, Sam, s_ he thought to herself.

Back at the desk, Dean picked up the mess of his former sandwich, cursing cats. _Sam had better hurry the hell up_ , he thought to himself.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Fia happened to be walking down the upstairs hall the next morning when Dean came out of his room, tucking a pistol under his shirt into the waistband of his jeans.

“Hold up! Is that a gun?” Her voice was incredulous.

“Uh, yeah. What's it look like?”

“Why do you need to be wearing that? You're probably the safest you've been in years, don't you think you can leave the weaponry behind for a while? That shit makes me nervous.”

“Come on, you're a lot safer if I have a gun in my hands than if I don't.”

“Surprisingly, I don't find that reassuring.” Fia shook her head. “Look, as far as the monsters are concerned, you're basically invisible right now. The fence charms will hold off all but the most powerful bad guys, who have no reason to think you're anywhere near here anyway. So just do me a favor and stash the gun, okay?”

Dean set his jaw. “I can't do that. Someone has to be prepared for when somethin' goes down, and that's what I do. Deal with it.”

“Deal with it? Deal with it?!” Fia closed the distance between them, unintimidated by his height and bulk, and when she spoke, her voice was low and serious. “Let's get something straight here, okay? This is _my_ house and you are a guest in it, which is saving your fucking life, by the way. I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. If you're going to stay here, you don't wear weapons around the house. Deal with _that_ or get off my property!” With that, she strode into her bedroom and closed the door with a decisive bang.

Dean stared bemusedly at the blank door. He couldn't decide if he was super pissed or kind of turned on. After a moment, he nodded in decision and turned back to his room. Once inside, he tucked the gun into his bag and pulled out a lethal looking knife in an ankle sheath. He strapped it on, feeling a little smug. He'd let her feel like she was in charge, while still protecting her. Win-win.

Across the hall, Fia leaned up against the door and tried to calm her pulse. She couldn't recall ever being so enraged so quickly before and it had left her feeling a little dizzy. As her mother used to say, that man would try a saint! And gods knew, she was no saint. The nerve of him! Thinking of his arrogance made her temper flare up again, so she sat down in the window seat to smoke a pipe and stare out at the trees for a while.

Once she had cooled down and started thinking about some of the things Bobby had told her on the ride in, she could understand how Dean's life and work would make him want to be armed all the time. She shuddered at the idea of carrying around that kind of psychic burden.

Okay then. She was a healer, maybe she could help take some of that burden from him, at least temporarily. At the very least, she could try to provide a safe haven for him while he was here. Maintaining her temper was obviously going to be a difficult task, but she thought she could manage.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Late in the afternoon on the second day of what Dean had jokingly called his “prison term” in a way that entirely failed to amuse her, Fia marched into the library. She was feeling irritated, but was struggling to hold on to her compassion as well, doing her damnedest to cut him some slack.

Dean didn't even look up from the page when she entered and, despite her good intentions, her irritation increased. She needed a new word for the blend of emotions that seemed almost constant for her since he got here. _Compassiotation? Irritassion?_ She shook her head, clearing away the random thought, and focused on Dean.

“Hey, I'm going into town for supplies. You ate the cupboards bare. Need anything particular? Other than beer, I mean,“ Fia said, glancing significantly at the empties littering the tables around the room. “By the way, I thought we said you would clean up after yourself? Feel free to start that anytime.”

When he did look up at her, Dean's gaze contained obvious impatience. “Yeah, I'll get to it.” He immersed himself back in the book.

Biting her tongue, Fia counted to ten, then to twenty. Once more in control of her temper, she spun on her heel and left the room, only to have his voice trail after her.

“Pick me up a fifth of whiskey, would ya? Doesn't have to be good.” She grabbed her keys and nearly ran out the door, before she forgot that he was a wounded soul who was worthy of patience and kindness, and started treating him the way his dick-wad behavior deserved. The sound of the screen door slamming behind her made Fia feel obscurely better as she got behind the wheel and took a deep breath. Some time away from the house would do her good.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The sun was lowering over the ocean when Fia pulled back into the drive, parking under the big oak. Grabbing a large pizza box and a liquor store bag from the front seat, she climbed out and headed to the front door. _Patience, compassion, understanding._ She chanted it like a mantra to herself, determined to live up to her ideals if it killed her.

Setting her burdens down on the kitchen counter, Fia called into the library. “I have pizza! And if you bring the groceries from the car, there's beer, too.”

Dean's head popped through the doorway. “And my whiskey?”

“Yes, I got your whiskey. Groceries first, though.” She jerked her head toward the driveway and was wryly amused when he meekly headed out to start carting bags in. Apparently, he just needed the right motivation. She filed that fact away for possible future use.

By the time he was done, she had plates and napkins out and was unloading the first grocery bags before sitting down to eat. Dean dropped the last of the bags, then started stacking slices of pizza onto a plate. “What, no green peppers?” Without waiting for a response, he tucked the bottle of whiskey she'd left on the counter under his arm, grabbed a couple of half-cold beers with one hand, and headed back into the library.

Fia followed him, ready to be livid at the thought of pepperoni grease on any of her books. But as she stood in the doorway, she could see that he'd kept the plate of pizza well away from anything of value. In fact, as she watched, he meticulously wiped his hands clean before reaching over to turn the page. Slightly mollified, Fia took a moment to appreciate the stretch of his shirt across broad shoulders. _If he can't be nice, at least he's nice to look at_ , she thought with a little smirk. She decided for the moment to ignore the fact that he hadn't cleaned up any of his mess while she was gone. Her hold on serenity was too tenuous, better not to invite any more opportunities for Dean to piss her off. She turned back into the kitchen to finish unloading the bags and then eat her dinner on the couch in front of Netflix. A Doctor Who marathon might be just the thing to put her in a better mood.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

A few hours later, Fia had switched from Doctor Who to Firefly when Dean came out of the library, the open bottle of whiskey in his hand already showing a noticeable decrease. “Don't mind me, just looking for some ice.” He went into the kitchen and pulled a glass from the cupboard, tossing a couple of ice cubes into it. “I know I said it didn't have to be good, but this stuff kinda needs something to take the edge off. You want some?” He took a large swallow, then looked over at her just in time to see a vast cloud of white smoke stream from her mouth.

She coughed vigorously for a few seconds, then set down the pipe and smiled across at him. “No thanks, I'm good.”

Dean frowned severely at her. “What the hell? Are you smoking pot?!”

Her smile got bigger. It was such a nice change to be the cause of his consternation, rather than the other way around. “Why yes, yes I am. Is there something you want to say about that?”

“Yeah, you shouldn't be messing with it.”

Fia sat up, looking around in confusion. “Wait a second, where are we?” Turning back, she pinned him with a look. “Oh yeah, we're in _my_ living room. My house, my rules. Weapons are out, pot is in.”

“Don't you know that stuff'll rot your brain? It's poison!”

“Really? That's the leg you want to stand on?” She stared pointedly at the tumbler full of cheap whiskey that was even now on its way to his lips. “That my choice of intoxicants is poisonous? You want to talk about poison, let's talk about booze. Now that'll kill you!”

“It helps me sleep!” Dean's tone was petulant.

“It'll help you to an early grave is what it'll do, the way you drink.”

“Lady, I'm a hunter. An early grave is part of the job description, might as well have some fun while I can.” Defiantly, he raised the glass and drank again.

“Fun is one thing. I like to have a couple of drinks as much as the next person. But I don't think you drink for fun.”

“You think you know why I drink?”

“I think you do it because it makes it easier to stifle whatever it is that's hurting you.”

“That's a load of bullshit!” He replenished the empty glass.

“Look, Dean, I don't want to tell you how to live your life. I just think you should consider trying something less toxic. Plus, if you use it in a conscious way, marijuana can really help to actually deal with emotional baggage, instead of trying to numb it with alcohol.”

He lowered the half-full glass and stared at her. “You know what? It's none of your business what I use to self-medicate, so keep your opinions to yourself, alright?” Grabbing the bottle off the counter, he stomped back into the library.

Turning off the TV, Fia climbed the stairs to bed, thinking about their exchange with some regret. Sometimes, she just didn't know when to stop talking. She knew she'd been clumsy and out of line, pushing him so hard about his drinking when she barely knew him. And it really went against her grain to encourage someone to try pot when they hadn't expressed an interest in it. But she couldn't just stand by! From what she'd seen, Dean was headed for a downward spiral that would destroy him. That would be a waste and a shame.

Fia didn't want to let it happen, but she had to admit that no one could force him to change his ways. All she or anyone could do was provide him opportunity and support for change. Well, she'd done that, if a bit awkwardly; he knew if he wanted to try something healthier, it was available. She vowed that it would be the last time she would bring it up. Dean was a smart guy and he had to make his own decisions.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Dean stomped over to the desk where he'd been working, setting his glass down hard enough to splash whiskey onto the the leather cover of a particularly old and valuable book. Muttering a number of vicious curses, he swiped at the spill with the sleeve of his shirt. Luckily, it hadn't been much of a spill and didn't seem to have caused any damage. With a heartfelt sigh of relief, he sat down. Fia had been crystal clear about the condition of her books.

The brush with committing book-crime had dulled the edge of his anger at her meddling. Spilling more whiskey over the ice, he sipped again. He didn't know her at all, but it seemed like Fia meant well. Dean gazed meditatively into the depths of his glass. Maybe he had been kinda defensive. Maybe she was getting a little too close to something he didn't want to look at?

 _To hell with it!_ Dean tossed back what was left of his drink and sat up. Sleep wasn't in the cards tonight, might as well get some work done.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

When Fia came downstairs the next morning, he was still at it, feet propped up on the desk and head bent over the book in his hands. The early sun glinted in his hair and she felt something in her heart soften. He looked so handsome and studious. Smiling to herself, she went into the library, some vague idea of offering to make breakfast for him in apology for her interference last night. Halfway across the room, her eye caught on a bit of black leather poking out from the hem of one leg. Recognizing it for a knife sheath, Fia crossed the room silently and swiftly. Reaching him just as he saw her coming, she grabbed his foot and held it up high. Pulled off balance, ass half out of the chair, Dean was helpless to do anything but stare up at her. She wrenched the sheathed knife from his ankle with a sharp sound of velcro and held it out to him accusingly.

“And just what the fuck is this?! I told you no weapons and I meant it!” She threw his foot down in disgust. “I think maybe you should call Sam and have him come get you. I can't have someone in my house who doesn't respect me or my wishes, which you obviously don't.” Tossing the knife down, she stood looking at him expectantly, waiting for his response.

The thought of leaving this place and putting Sam into more than the usual amount of danger made Dean sit up in panic. “Wait, I'm sorry!” He looked her in the eye. “You gotta understand, I've carried a weapon pretty much every minute of every day for as long as I can remember. You said weapons make you nervous. It's lack of weapons that makes me nervous. You sure you can't just let me have the knife?”

“I really don't think so,” she said solemnly. “I'm sorry, Dean, it's just too much.” Fia leaned up against the desk, looking thoughtful. “But I had a thought the other night that might mean we can find a compromise here. Do you know what colloidal silver is?”

“No, but it sounds kinda gross.”

Fia rolled her eyes. “It's just silver dissolved in a liquid.”

“O-o-okay. So?”

“ You know what else dissolves in liquid? Salt. And you know what's made out of liquid? Holy water. Why don't we combine all three? In theory, it would at least slow down just about anything I've heard of. That way, you could have a weapon handy that doesn't make me feel unsafe in my own home. What do you think?”

“Not exactly thrilled about depending on untested tech, but if there's no other option,” her expression confirmed it, “then I guess I'm willing to take that compromise.”

“Great. I'll mix some up while you go put that knife away.” Her grin carried the smallest touch of triumph as she headed down to the basement workroom.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fia finally loses her temper.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Sam's phone rang. “Hey Dean.”

“Dude, you gotta get me outta here! I'm going stir crazy!” Dean's voice carried a distinct note of desperation.

“C'mon, it's can't be that bad.” _Whiner_ , Sam mentally added to himself.

“She told me I should go outside, get outta the house! What am I gonna do outside, sit in the frickin' gazebo? I didn't even know what a gazebo was until I came here.” His voice rose as his outrage grew. “She won't even let me carry a knife!” Dean got distracted from his complaints for a second. “Although she did have an interesting idea for something I'm calling monster juice.” He grinned, pleased with the name.

“Monster what?”

“Doesn't matter. Just find a way to jail break me, would ya?”

“Me and Bobby haven't found anything yet. That demon cursed you hard, Dean, and you can't come out to play until we figure out how to turn it off. So take a deep breath, sit in the damn gazebo, and pretend you're just a regular guy on vacation.”

“Man, I don't _wanna_ be a regular guy. I'm a hunter!”

Sam was exasperated. “Look, this might be the one and only chance you have to experience something even approaching a normal life! You get to kick back for a while and not have to worry about demons and other monsters breathing down your neck. And here's the kicker - you don't have a choice about it! So fuckin' enjoy it for as long as it lasts and I'll call you next week unless we find something sooner. Bye Dean.”

Dean jabbed the End Call button on his phone, desperately missing the days of being able to slam down the receiver. He was fighting the urge to throw the phone against the wall when Fia walked in.

She smiled at him. “Hey, I'm taking my lunch out to the gazebo.” He tried not to flinch at the word, but Fia could sense his aversion. “Close up the books and come outside, for shit's sake! You've been cooped up in here for days.”

With a resigned sigh, he put the phone in his pocket and followed her into the kitchen, where Fia picked up a real honest-to-god picnic basket. As she led the way out the back door, Dean realized that aside from the fact that she still wasn't acting like a witch, he didn't really know anything about Fia. With a mostly-internal smirk, he amended that thought. He sure as hell knew the way her hips swayed when she passed through the room, the way she smelled while she made coffee in the morning after her shower. Much as he'd tried to ignore that stuff, he kept getting distracted at odd moments. He really didn't need complications in his life and he could sense that Fia had the potential to become a substantial one.

As they crossed the meadow, Dean finally took a moment to actually appreciate his surroundings. This was a truly beautiful place, trees and grass, sun and wind, water and sky. And so quiet. Too quiet.

With that thought, Dean realized he was still in hunter mode, probably permanently. The annoying truth was that Sam was right; for the time being, Dean couldn't be a hunter. And he was currently in one of the only places in the world where he could relax and be fairly sure nothing lethal was going to jump out trying to gank him. Touching the water bottle of monster juice at his belt, he took a deep breath and decided to do what he could to enjoy himself.

Fia glanced at him as they climbed the stairs. “By the way, how's the arm? Any improvement?”

Grimacing, Dean clenched his left hand, feeling the slight burn of the raw wound against the bandage. “Nope, no change. Not bleeding, but the damn thing won't heal.”

“I'm sure it will, once we break the curse.” Fia handed him a plate and gestured toward the food containers. As he helped himself to fried chicken and fruit salad, she asked, “Wanna beer?”

“Don't I always?”

She chuckled and reached down below the bench where she was sitting, opening a refrigerator drawer and pulling out a bottle of iced tea for herself and a beer for him.

“Convenient,” he said, accepting the bottle and nodding down at the drawer.

“Yeah, My grandmother was a spiritual person, but never bought into the idea that you have to deprive yourself of pleasure in order to grow spiritually. She didn't see comfort or convenience as a distraction from her spirituality. Just the opposite in fact. So she put a lot of thought into making this place restful for the body as well as the mind and spirit.”

Dean put his feet up and took a swig of beer, looking out toward the ocean. “Well, she did a damn fine job of it.”

“She was a very smart woman, caring and strong at the same time. She was my hero.” A wistful look drifted into Fia's eyes as she glanced over the place her grandmother had built. “I still miss her.”

“Yeah, I miss my dad a lot. He wasn't perfect, but he was my hero, too, and he kept us safe growin' up, taught us everything he knew about hunting.”

Fia was startled. “You mean this all started when you were a kid? Bobby didn't mention that. Wow, I can't imagine it.”

“I can't really imagine any other way. I was in preschool.” There was a sudden, painful lump in Dean's throat and he blinked hard to keep tears from forming. Normally, he tried not to dwell on how much he still felt the pain of being ripped from a life of finger paints and naptime into the dark, bloody world he had inhabited ever since. And he was surprised at himself. Why was he telling her any of this? Fia barely knew him and could hardly care about his tragic childhood. Dean cleared his throat and sipped his beer. “Anyway, what about you? When did your grandma start telling you about all this stuff?”

The look Fia sent him was piercing, but compassionate and he knew he hadn't fooled her by his change of subject. But she let it pass and began to talk, letting him just sit and listen without needing to respond. She told him about how she spent every summer here through her childhood, essentially becoming an apprentice to her grandmother, learning spellwork and botany, astronomy and astrology, how to feel the energy of the planet and its inhabitants, and any number of other useful and arcane subjects. She didn't have a name for it then, but her grandmother was a Wise Woman in the fullest sense of the phrase and was laying the groundwork for Fia to follow the same path.

“I'm grateful every day that she did. It was the greatest gift anyone could ever have given me.” Fia paused, caught up in her memories, then shook herself and focused again on Dean. “When I was 15, she decided that I was old enough to hear her stories about her days as... well, a “Hunter's Helper” is what she called it. She said it was to remind her that most hunters end up as hamburger,” Dean snorted, “so some level of detachment is a good idea.”

“She sounds funny. I like a woman with a dark sense of humor.” His eyes crinkled with amusement and Fia felt something flutter in her stomach. She squashed it down and focused on what she was saying.

“Grandma Ailsa had that in full measure, along with the detachment. But it didn't keep her from doing everything she could to help them when they needed it. She was a lore-keeper, like Bobby, and her spellcraft saved a lot of lives.” There was more than a hint of pride in Fia's voice. “As she got deeper and deeper into the world of hunting, Grandma decided that she could do more. She could offer hunters something most of them no longer had – a place of safety. A place where they didn't have to be looking over their shoulder all the time. A place to recuperate when a job went bad. So that's what she did, for seventeen years, until my grandfather died. That's the day she closed up shop. She said someone else would have to take care of the hunters for a while, she needed to be with her family.”

Dean was curious. “How did your grandpa feel about all the demon-y goodness?”

“He died when I was pretty young, but I got the distinct impression that he was madly in love with Grandma until the day he died, and he wouldn't stand in the way of anything she felt strongly about. And she felt strongly about a lot of things!”

Dean sent Fia a sideways glance. “You must take after her.”

She kept a straight face, but there was laughter in her eyes when she replied. “You betcher ass, I do.”

Silence fell then as they each got caught up in their own thoughts, watching the sea birds swoop and dive. Some time later, Fia glanced at Dean and saw that his head had fallen back against the cushion and the empty beer bottle lay next to his limp hand. Her smile turned into a soft laugh when a slight snore escaped him. Quietly, she packed up the picnic remains and turned to go. Checking to make sure he wasn't going to fall off the bench in his sleep, she couldn't help but see how vulnerable Dean looked, his guarded face now relaxed in sleep. Suddenly, Fia could see the sad little boy that he must have been and it broke her heart a little. Giving in to an impulse too strong to resist, she very gently laid a hand on his hair, wanting to kiss his forehead, but afraid he would wake up and then what would she say? It would be tough to explain something she didn't fully understand herself. Fia turned away, picked up the basket, and left Dean to his sleep.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

He woke up slowly. Dean could feel the sun warm on his face and a slight breeze in his hair, hear birds and the wind in the trees. For a split second, the thought floated across his mind. _Heaven?_ The sight of the gazebo roof above him when he opened his eyes brought it all back. He chuckled ruefully at himself. Heaven, yeah right. What are the odds that's where he's going when the true end comes?

But he did feel different somehow, some way he couldn't quite identify. This feeling, it was almost like, what? Hope? No, that _couldn't_ be right. It was something else, something quieter. He thought it might be … peace. A smile broke over his face. _So that's what peace feels like._ The smile turned rueful. _Better not get used to it._

Stretching, Dean sat up and watched the sun on the waves for a few minutes before heading back to the house.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

He detoured on his way, turning aside to walk through the garden. This was his first visit and he was charmed by the way every space was filled with something, vegetables, flowers, and herbs all mixed in together.

Dean let his mind wander as he stood taking it all in, breathing in the warm green smell of plants in the sun. He found himself thinking about how much he had enjoyed taking an afternoon nap. Maybe tomorrow he would try out the hammock that Fia said was hanging by the creek on the other side of the house. Funny, he hadn't had a nap in years, it was hard enough just to sleep at night. But here, it just seemed different.

It just seemed different … why was that? Was it the place? Or was it Fia? She had been there when he fell asleep. With a cold start, he realized that he had forgotten that she was a witch. A witch! What if she was putting spells on him? Something to make him sleep. Or worse, something to make him relax in her presence, trust her enough to fall asleep with her there. That was an ominous thought! What was she planning, though? He'd been here almost four days and there had been absolutely no sign of evil intentions. She must be playing a long game, then.

Well, whatever it was, it was gonna stop right fuckin' now! Dean turned on his heel and marched out of the garden and down the path, stalking up the stairs to the back porch. When he entered the kitchen, Fia was there, pouring water from the kettle into a mug. She glanced over her shoulder at him and returned to her task.

“Hey, how was your nap? I'm making myself tea, want some?”

“No, I don't want any damn tea! What I want is to know exactly how you spelled me to sleep and what the hell you think you're gonna gain by it?” His voice was louder than he had intended and it startled them both.

She set down the kettle and whirled around to face him, her eyes wide. “What the hell are you talking about and why are you yelling at me?”

Her innocent act got him riled all over again. “What I'm talking about is how I just _happen_ to be in the presence of a witch when I just _happen_ to get the best sleep I can ever remember having. I'm a hunter, I don't let my guard down like that! So you must have put some kind of spell on me and I'm warning you not to do it again!”

Without warning, Fia's face turned an alarming shade of crimson and her eyes sparked. “THAT. IS. IT!” She flung the spoon she was holding onto the floor. “I am _so_ fucking _done_ with you! I have opened my house to you, been unfailingly kind and patient. For shit's sake, I even cooked for you today! And what do I get? No thanks, no offers to help out, just sullen monosyllables and a lot of beer bottles! You can't even show me enough respect to call me by my actual title!”

“What are you talkin' about? _What_ freakin' title?” Dean was bewildered.

“I am NOT a witch, you ass!” She drew herself up and spoke with a solemn dignity shaded with anger. “I am a Wicca! And no Wicca would _ever_ perform magic on another person without that other's consent. In fact, we wouldn't do it to an animal or a plant or a rock without asking permission first. Any one who does differently is no true Wicca!” Fia looked him in the eye. “So no, I did not put any kind of spell on you. What you felt, Dean, was the simple magic of being in a safe place with a safe person. You have to trust someone sometime, and right now, I'm the only someone in town. So suck it up!” She turned her back on him, picking up her mug and sipping slowly while she let the anger drain out of her, down into the earth.

After a moment's silence, she heard Dean clear his throat. “You're right, I'm sorry.” That was more startling than his earlier shouting and she turned to face him. His expression was a mix of chagrin and apology as he continued. “You haven't done anything but help me, and I've been a real dick to you. I know Sam and Bobby both like you a whole lot. Don't tell them this, but I trust their judgment. It's just that all this damn safety is making me antsy and I got nowhere to put that energy since the books are turning out to be a bust. Maybe we can start over?”

“That depends. Do you believe that I will never work magic on you unless you ask it of me?” Fia's manner was strangely formal as she waited for his answer.

Looking into her eyes, Dean spoke with certainty. “Yeah, I believe it.”

Relaxing a little, Fia smiled. “In that case, yes, we can start over.” Pointing a finger at him, she amended, “Just so long as you don't ever call me a witch again.”

“I swear I won't.”

“Good. Now if you want to make yourself useful, I have an idea how you can burn up some of that excess energy.”

Trying to lighten the mood, and maybe distract her a little, Dean smirked at her. “Oh yeah?”

“Stop that.” Ignoring the way her stomach dropped, Fia laughed, not quite scornfully. “You're not half as cute as you think you are.” _Liar,_ her brain whispered, but she stifled the thought. Dean was dangerously tempting, emphasis on the danger. “I want to double check and reinforce the protective charms around the property and at the fence line. It's been a long time and I have to admit I haven't kept up with the maintenance as well as I should have. If you help, it'll go a lot faster and easier. What do you say?”

“Anything I can do to help out,” he said with a totally straight face.

She answered in kind, but he detected a hint of mirth below the surface. “Better late than never.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Things between them were easier once the air was cleared. The next morning, they tramped out into the woods, following the fence line that surrounded the property. The work wasn't difficult, but it was time consuming. Fia and Dean picked their way through the ferns, checking the condition of the carved and painted sigils that ran in an unbroken line along the top rail, re-carving or repainting them as necessary. Occasionally, a sigil would be so worn down that the charm had actually weakened and needed to be recast. Mid-way through that first afternoon, they came across another one. Glancing at his watch, Dean shrugged out of the backpack he was using to carry the spell ingredients.

“Before we tackle this, you got anything left from lunch? I'm starving!”

“I'm shocked to hear it,” Fia said with one eyebrow raised, slipping out of her own pack and sitting down with her back to a tall tree. “I have apples and cheese, trail mix, carrot sticks, jerky, and peanut M&Ms. Think that'll hold you for the next couple of hours? Once we hit the front gate, I think we can call it a day.”

“Mm, I love jerky!” Sitting down next to her, Dean snagged a piece from the bag and with a grunt, tore a chunk off with his teeth. He spoke around a mouthful of dried meat. “How much more territory do we need to cover?”

“Let me think.” Fia sipped from her water bottle as her eyes roamed back along the way they had come and then forward, calculating in her head. Dean found himself caught by the reflective look on her face, watching the thoughts flicker behind her eyes. Her voice snapped him out of it and he mentally shook himself, disconcerted. “We've already done the beach protections and we might be a quarter of the way done with the fence. The rest of today, and then maybe two more? We can cover the house and outbuildings in an afternoon, I think. Done by Saturday would be my best guess.” Fia paired a slice of apple with one of cheese and crunched down on them, looking around with a contented sigh. “It's good to be out here again. I've been so busy, I haven't made time to come out and visit the trees. I've missed them.”

Dean glanced around him, then tilted his head back to look into the top branches of the tree above them. “Man, I've never spent so much time just, you know, being outside, except when I was trackin' something down. Or being tracked. I'm starting to think I like it. I always thought it was boring, but maybe it's not. There's still a lot of stuff happening out here, it's just not as obvious.”

Fia looked at him, considering. “You know, we could always do an overnight trip to take care of the rest of the fence. Grandma put a shelter out near the redwood grove and that would make a good halfway point. It'd be faster than hiking back to the house and out again in the morning, plus it would give you a chance to really be out in the heart of the forest. What do you think?”

“I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but I think it sounds kinda cool.”

“Great! I've got an extra pack and a sleeping bag I can loan you.”

Having finished eating, Fia pulled out her smoke kit and loaded a bowl for herself. Dean raised his eyebrows, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a beat up silver flask. Unscrewing the cap, he took a healthy swig.

“Ahhh!” He tipped the flask to her, looking smug. “Legal _and_ delicious.”

Releasing the breath she'd been holding, she peered at him through the cloud of fragrant smoke, smiling. “Delicious _and_ won't give you cirrhosis.”

He took up the challenge. “I can pour this into my coffee mug and get drunk just about anytime I want.”

“Well, if that's your goal, have you ever seen a vape pen? They look just like an electric cigarette, which means I can get high just about any time or place I want.”

“What about availability? I can buy hooch anywhere.” Triumphant, Dean had another drink.

Laughing, Fia said, “Did you actually _look_ at the plants in my greenhouse when you were nosing around that first day? I don't have to go anywhere.” Hitting the bowl one last time, she tamped the ashes into her hand, making sure they were cold before scattering them to the forest floor. “Ready to get back to work?”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A campfire, s'mores, and a whole lot of whiskey makes for good conversation.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

“Mornin', sunshine!” Fia's voice was full of laughter when she saw Dean come down the stairs the next day. “Hit the old whiskey bottle a little hard last night?”

He winced and clutched his head. “Oh my god - could you maybe lower it to a whisper?”

She upped the volume a half notch. “I don't know if I can, I'm so excited about our camping trip!”

“Uhnnn...” Still holding his head, Dean dropped into a kitchen chair.

Taking pity on him, Fia set a cup of black coffee in front of him, then went to the freezer and pulled out an ice pack for his head. “If you take some aspirin, do you think you'll keep it down?”

Gratefully holding the ice pack over his eyes, Dean started to nod, then abruptly stopped the motion. “Yeah, I think it'll be okay. Maybe a glass of water?”

Filling a glass from the refrigerator tap, Fia couldn't help scoring a point on him. “You know, I just thought of another great thing about pot. No hangover.” She set the glass down next to the coffee and went to grab the aspirin bottle from the cupboard. “Think you're still up for this?”

Dropping the ice pack on the table, he reached for the bottle and shook two pills out. “I'll be fine, just give me a few minutes.” Dean popped the pain-killers into his mouth and gulped water to wash them down, then pulled out his flask and poured a healthy dollop into the coffee.

Fia frowned as he sipped the hot beverage, but didn't argue. “It's a good thing you packed your bag last night. I've got a couple things to do, so we'll leave in about 15 minutes.'

The ice pack was back in place. “Perfect.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

She had to hand it to Dean, once they got moving, he hadn't slowed them down at all, though he was awfully quiet the first hour or two. By the time they were done with lunch, he seemed fully recovered. Apparently, a nearly lethal hangover was nothing new to him. Still, it was later than Fia would have liked by the time they approached the redwood grove that evening. There was just enough light left to make camp.

“There it is.” She motioned ahead of them.

Dean peered past her. “Where? Behind that little shed?”

“Uh yeah, no, it _is_ that little shed.”

“You gotta be kidding me! It doesn't even have four walls! I thought it was gonna be a cabin.” Dean looked accusingly at her.

“Why in the world would you think that?” Her voice was puzzled. “I believe the word I used was 'shelter' and that is, in fact, a shelter. A lean-to, to be exact. Come on.” Fia led the way, pointing out the perfectly good fire ring, and the raised platform for their sleeping bags, even a fallen log to act as a backrest, worn smooth with countless nights of fire-gazing. “What more would we need?”

“How about a bathroom, for one?!”

“No problem.” Fia reached into her pack and pulled out a trowel with a roll of toilet paper around the handle, then dug out a small bottle of hand sanitizer. Handing these over, she ordered, “It's very simple: stay 100 yards from camp and from the creek, then dig a hole six inches deep and bury it when you're done. The water in the creek is drinkable, which is rare this close to the coast, so don't screw it up. From here, your best bet is to head in that general direction,” waving her hand toward the southeast.

Dean dropped his pack and set the bathroom supplies on top. “Great, I'll remember that. Second question – what's for dinner?”

“Let me see, I have beef stroganoff, chicken alfredo, or sweet and sour pork.” Fia flourished the silver foil packets in front of him. “All we have to do is collect some wood, build a fire, get some water, and boil it. Easy right?”

Dean looked her in the eye. “You suck, you know that?” Taken by surprise, she guffawed loudly and he couldn't help but laugh with her. “I mean, really? Dehydrated food? Yuck. You couldn't bring a pack of hot dogs or something? I don't even need buns or mustard, just a dog on a stick.”

“Ah, you'll forgive me when you look in the outside pocket on your pack.”

“What do you mean? I packed that myself, there's nothing to eat in there.” Dragging the bag around, he unzipped the pocket and pulled out a bag of marshmallows. Dean looked up, his eyes round. “No way, really? You brought s'mores?” He dug around and came up with a package of graham crackers and a couple of chocolate bars. “Awesome!”

“Technically, _you_ brought the s'mores.”

He started, then looked again into the now empty pocket. “Dammit, you left my DS2 at the house!”

“Yes, yes I did. There is absolutely _no_ need for video games when you're out in the forest, it's just a fucking waste. When I saw you packing it, I couldn't help myself. Sorry.” Fia's unrepentant grin said 'not sorry'.

“So how do we entertain ourselves then?” Some deep sense of caution made Dean keep his tone free from any kind of innuendo.

“After gourmet dinner and dessert, we sit around watching the fire and telling stories. Look up at the stars, maybe we pass this back and forth,” she said, pulling a bottle of fine bourbon from her pack. “You carried the s'mores, I carried this. Any part of that sound bad to you?”

“No, it really doesn't. And I notice that's a lot nicer than the rotgut you brought me.”

“I don't drink much or often, so when I do, I want something worth drinking.” Stowing the bottle in her pack, Fia pulled out a collapsible jug and handed it to him. “We better get moving before it gets much darker. You take this and get some water, the creek is about 30 yards that way. I'll collect wood and get the fire going.”

An hour later, Dean put down his bowl and sat back, patting his full belly. “Alright, dried food isn't as bad as I thought.”

“I should hope not, you ate two full packets of it. How was the sweet and sour?”

“Not as good as the alfredo, but not half bad. I've had worse.”

She handed him one of the sticks she had sharpened while he was eating his second course. “Ready for s'mores?”

“Always.”

Fia held her marshmallow just over the coals, turning diligently to get the perfect, even, toasty brown color she loved. From the corner of her eye, she saw Dean ram a puffy white square onto the stick and shove it into the fire, then quickly blow out the small flame and pop the blackened lump into his mouth. He grinned at her with a mouth full of carbonized sugar. “I can never wait for the first one.”

“Not me, I like to wait for it to be perfect. Patience pays off, you know.” She showed him the gorgeously toasted marshmallow before pulling it off the stick with her teeth. Pleasure sparkled in Fia's eyes as she savored the sweet, caramel-y flavor.

“Wouldn't know, I could never wait long enough to find out.”

“You don't know what you're missing.” Putting a second marshmallow on her stick, she promised herself it would actually make it into a s'more before she ate it.

Dean was already on his third burnt offering, but this time he sandwiched it with the chocolate and graham cracker and pushed the whole thing into his mouth.

Two s'mores later, Fia had reached her sugar limit. Licking her fingers clean, she sat back and watched Dean eat three more.

“You must have an iron constitution. I can't believe you're eating all that after the way you looked this morning.”

Dean looked confused. “That was this morning. In fact, now that you mention it, how about you crack open that bottle you brought? I'm dying for something that doesn't have a hint of rubbing alcohol to it.”

Digging in her pack, Fia laughed. “You did say it didn't have to be good.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn't. Pass that over.” He reached for the bottle in her hand.

She slapped his hand away. “Uh-uh, ladies first.” Fia sipped, then passed it to him. “Story time! Tell me about the weirdest case you've ever worked on.”

Dean took a healthy swallow, his memory flooded with the many, many bizarre jobs he had worked over the years, some with his dad, some with Sam, and a few he'd worked solo. The one that jumped out first, though, was definitely weird, in a way that still had him trying to make sense of it years later.

“Alright, here's one for ya. Couple years ago, me and Sammy caught this job up in Rhode Island. Ordinary people were stabbing complete strangers in the heart and saying that an angel told them to do it. Run of the mill crazy, right? Except that the people getting killed were turnin' out to be bad, like serial killer, child molester bad.

“Sam was half convinced that the righteous nut-jobs were carrying out God's will. But all the vics just happened to go to the same church, where a priest had been murdered in the recent past. Sounded like a vengeful spirit to me. Plus, if there is a God, when has he ever been interested in stopping a tragedy before it happened?”

Dean helped himself to another large swig. “And then, Sam gets picked by whatever's calling itself an angel. He was supposed to make the next kill, but I didn't want to take the chance that my suddenly devout brother was gonna off an innocent man. So I followed Sam's target instead and it turned out the guy wasn't so innocent. He was getting ready to knife some woman, but when I interrupted him, he took off.

“While I was chasing the scumbag down, Sam raised the priest's ghost. Poor dead bastard admitted to sending the hit squad out, because he had convinced himself he really was an angel, doing God's work. Sammy laid the ghost to rest and that shoulda been that, no angels in sight. Except that before I could catch up with the would-be murdering asshole, he got in a wreck and took a 2” pipe through the chest. Stabbed right in the heart.”

He turned to look at Fia. “Sure as hell looked like an act of God to me. Thing is, I didn't believe in angels and God and all that stuff back then. Now I know better, but it still doesn't jibe, you know? That kind of justice doesn't match up with anything else I've seen of God or his feathery lackeys. So what am I supposed to do with that?”

“You really want to know how it sounds to me?” Dean nodded. Fia took the bottle from him and sipped before continuing. “Ok, the first thing you have to understand is that I don't buy into all that “One True God” stuff. So when you say an act of God to me, that could be referring to any number of entities, all of which are facets of the cosmos expressing itself.” She ignored his snort of puzzled derision. “I believe all of us, gods included, are parts of the whole and that sometimes the cosmic structure rebalances itself through unexplainable events. So maybe it wasn't an act of the Jehovan God you know, but just the cosmos addressing an imbalance.”

“So what you're saying is, the cosmos works in mysterious ways?”  
Fia had to laugh at that. “Yep, same old inadequate answer you've been hearing for years. Maybe that's the point. Our brains are too small to contain the complexity of the full truth, so we just need to accept that sometimes, things won't make sense.”

“Well, that doesn't help me at all!”

“I didn't promise to be helpful. All I can do is tell you my own truth and maybe you'll find something in it that you can use.”

He sat in thoughtful silence while Fia loaded her pipe and lit it.

“Ok, maybe you're right about one thing. If the big-g God isn't the only power out there, coulda been someone or something else that shish kabob'd that guy. Whoever put the hit on him, I guess he got what he had comin'.” Dean looked over at her as a thought occurred to him. “So is that cosmic stuff something all Wiccans believe?”

She chuckled. “To be honest, I don't think there's anything _all_ Wiccans believe. We're more like snowflakes, no two alike.”

“Really?”

“Maybe not literally, but one of the best things about Wicca is that there's so much room for individuality, an infinite number of paths to follow. I'm what's called a solitary, which means I don't work with a group or a coven. I also tend to pick and choose what works for me from whatever practices I encounter. So I never have to force myself to believe some dogma handed down from on high. I am my own highest authority.” Fia took another healthy hit from the pipe.

Dean shivered and pulled his jacket closer around him “Brrr. You think you could use some of that authority to make it warmer? I'm freezing!”

“Me, too. Grab your sleeping bag.” She unzipped hers, slipped off her shoes, and stepped in. Pulling it up around her shoulders, she sat down again with her back against the log. Following her example, Dean sat next to her.

“Better?”

“Oh yeah. Hand me the bottle.”

While he was taking a drink, Fia relit her pipe and inhaled deeply, looking up at the stars as she slowly released the smoke from her lungs into the night air.

Dean watched her curiously. “You really don't think that stuff is bad for you?”

She shrugged. “The truth is that nothing has zero downside, not if you're talking about getting a buzz. But pot's the least harmful thing I've found. No one has ever o.d.'d on marijuana, it doesn't break down your body's systems, and what addiction there is is so minor that it barely qualifies. In fact, I'm way more addicted to caffeine than pot, and I smoke a _lot_ of pot.”

“My dad always said that it would slow down my reflexes, make me stupid. I can't afford that.”

“Sure, when you're high, you might be slower moving and slower thinking than normal. But it's nothing like what happens when you get drunk. And I can tell you from experience that it's possible to override the effects when you need to, although that takes some practice. Listen, I'm not saying 'get stoned and go hunting', but I sure as hell wouldn't say 'get drunk and go hunting' either.”

“Man, I don't know.” He took another healthy mouthful from the bottle. “I've met plenty of stoners that were genuinely soft in the melon. And most of 'em didn't have a lot of motivation, either.”

Fia turned to face him. “You can't judge us all by the obvious ones. I'm willing to bet you've met more stoners than you think, because a lot of us are fully functioning members of society. Look at me, I've been smoking full time - I mean every day, wake and bake, full time - for years now. That includes the whole time you've been here, whether you knew it or not. Do you think it's made me stupid or lazy or any of the other things they say? What do you really think?”

Dean was taken aback at her description of how much she smoked, but took a moment to search his memories of the last few days. “You're obviously not stupid. And you work as hard as anyone I've seen.”

“So maybe all the propaganda isn't exactly true?”

“Maybe. Maybe I should find out for myself.” He looked at the pipe in her hand.

It was Fia's turn to be taken aback. “Hey, I know I pushed kind of hard the first time we talked, but I really don't want you to do anything you aren't sure about. Not that I think that anything bad will happen, I just want to be sure it's your own choice if you decide to try it.”

“In case you haven't noticed, I'm a big boy. I can handle it. Load 'er up!”

So she did. Dean took a cautious inhale, handing the pipe back to Fia and managing to hold the smoke in his lungs for all of two seconds, before falling out in a coughing fit. It lasted for a minute or so and when he finally recovered, his face was as red as his eyes. He caught his breath and looked at her. “I don't think I feel anything.”

“Give it a minute, because it sure looks like you're feeling it.”

Clearing his throat, Dean sat back and tilted his head to look up at the stars. “Sammy and I used to sit on the hood of the Impala at night, looking up. He was a big one for naming the constellations. We don't do it much anymore. Don't know why.” He fell into musing, a pensive look on his face.

Recognizing the pitfall of wistful memories, Fia groped for some way to turn the conversation in another, less melancholy direction.

“Story time again! Now I want to hear about the funniest job you ever worked.”

He blinked and looked at her owlishly. “Funny? Funny. Let me think.” His face lit up. “Oh yeah! There's the time me and Sam were headshrinkers for a giant teddy bear having an existential crisis.”

“This I gotta hear.”

Pretty soon, they were both laughing hysterically while Dean tried to continue his impersonation of the the angry stuffed animal.

“Oh my gods, stop, please, I can't breathe!” Fia clutched his arm, struggling to contain her mirth as she pictured the teddy bear yelling at the tv news. “That poor thing! I shouldn't be laughing, but it's so funny!” She wiped the tears from her eyes, small giggles occasionally escaping her as she pulled the sleeping bag tighter around her. Taking what was for Fia a large swallow from the bottle, she stared dreamily into the fire. “When I was a kid, I would have loved it if my stuffed animals had come to life. Except a lot of them were unicorns, so I guess that could have been dangerous. What about you? Did you have any favorite stuffed animals?”

“We-e-ll, I didn't really have that kind of childhood. Or any kind, really.”

“Shit! I forgot, I'm so sorry I brought it up.” Fia looked at him with remorse.

“Nah, it's okay. Nothing new to me. I did get to see pictures of my childhood once, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your grandma ever tell you about djinn?”

“Yeah, she said they were extremely dangerous.”

“They are. Ever wonder how the stories about wish-granting got started? 'Cause I can tell you.” Dean took a deep drink from the whiskey bottle.

“Wait a second! Did you get poisoned by a djinn? Grandma said she'd never heard of anyone living through that!”

“I'm not surprised. The poison makes you think you're in a world where your wish came true, when what's really happening is you're getting sucked dry by the djinn.”

“I'm confused though, how does that play into childhood pictures?”

“My dreamworld was the one where my mom didn't die when I was young and my dad never took me and Sam hunting.” He glanced at her, his face wistful. “I gotta tell you, when I knocked on the door of our old house and she answered, so alive and so beautiful, I couldnt've cared less if it was real or fantasy. I was so happy to see her!”

Fia thought of the loss of her own parents. “I understand. I would be, too.”

Dean shook himself and continued. “So anyway, when I go into the house, there's all these pictures around, of me and Sam growing up, of my mom and dad through their marriage, family Christmas, all these things that never happened. Even if I didn't get to experience all that stuff, it still made me feel good to see pictures of us as a normal, happy family. Hell, there was even a picture of my dad in a softball uniform. My dad, playing softball. That was a trip, let me tell ya.”

“Was he there, too?”

His face fell a little. “No, he'd died the year before, of a nice, normal heart attack.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, it woulda been awesome to see him. But the really sucky thing was that me and Sam weren't friends the way we are now. In real life, we were pretty much all the other had. I guess not being stuck together in crappy motel rooms together for years on end meant we never learned to depend on each other. And you know, I could have lived with that. I would've tried to change it, but I could have lived with it. Sam was in college and getting married, I had this terrific girlfriend and a good job. It was great! But then I found out that all the people we had saved over the years hadn't been saved now. I mean, hundreds of people, maybe thousands, were dead now because me, Sam, and Dad didn't become hunters.”

“But they weren't really dead.”

“I still didn't get where I was, so it was real to me. And then I kept seeing this phantom girl, who would appear and disappear. That shit doesn't happen if everything's all hunky dory. So I decided the only thing to do was to kill that damn djinn. Honestly, I didn't know what else to do, but something wasn't right and I had to do something. I meant to go alone, but Sam caught me stealing a knife from Mom's wedding silver and the damn fool insisted on coming with me. We got to the warehouse and the phantom girl was there, chained up and mostly unconscious. When the djinn came back, she kinda woke up and started asking where her dad was. The djinn magic'd her back to sleep and started feeding off her, sucking her blood from an IV bag like it was a straw.”

Fia made an involuntary sound of disgust and sipped from the whiskey bottle as if to clear a bad taste from her mouth.

“Sam said the same thing.” Pulling the bottle from her hands, Dean took a substantial swallow before continuing. “What she said about her dad got me thinking, though. She didn't know where she was, thought she was someplace else. What if that was me, too? If that was true, I was dying out in the real world and if I died, Sam would be alone out there. No way that was gonna happen. So the only way out I could figure was for me to die in the fantasy world and wake up out in the real one. I was ready to knife myself, too, but suddenly Mom's there, asking me not to do it. Then my imaginary girlfriend shows up with Sam's dead fiance and everyone I care about in that world is there, begging me to stay with them and be happy for once.” He fell silent, reliving that moment, the looks of love and pleading on his family's faces and his own longing for the life they promised, a life where love wasn't intertwined with blood and death.

The look of bleak desolation on Dean's face was devastating and Fia's throat closed as she fought off tears of sympathy.

Taking a deep breath, Dean shook his head in a gesture that was angry and filled with regret. “I just couldn't do it. So I looked at them all one last time and then I rammed that knife right into my gut.”

“And that woke you up?”

“Yeah, I felt like hell, but I was alive. And Sam, the real Sam, was there, cutting me down. But then that blue-tattooed bastard showed up and came damn close to strangling Sam before I managed to grab the silver knife and stick it to him.”

“What about the phantom girl?”

“She was there, too, in worse shape than me, but she survived.” Dean drank again and sat for few moments in silence. “ _God_ , I wanted to do it! I was so damn tired of fighting! I wanted to go back home with them and have a real life, maybe kids, jeez, even grandkids! But that's never been in the cards for me. It wouldn't have been a real life anyway.” Another drink. “And damn it, I couldn't leave Sam!” There were tears pooling in his eyes as he sat rigid and controlled, not looking at her.

Fia hesitatingly laid a hand on his arm and when he didn't pull away, leaned in toward him, solemn as his tears spilled over. “I think you might be the bravest and most selfless man I've ever met.” Ignoring the faint negative shake of his head, she went on. “Tragically flawed, yes.” That made him snort in amused agreement. “But you still deserve happiness, Dean. Real happiness, not some illusion meant to drain your life away. What you did was next to impossible, but you did it because you knew it was right. Integrity is a rare quality, and you have it in in your bones.”

When Dean looked down at her, he realized that Fia was crying, too. Unbelievably touched, he reached out to wipe the tears from her cheek. “Are you cryin' for me?” he asked incredulously.

She brushed his hand away irritatedly. “Of _course_ I'm crying for you, Dean! Anyone who could hear you tell that story and not be moved to tears is a real asshole.”

That made him laugh and he put his arm around Fia and pulled her close to his side, suddenly feeling a lot lighter. “It's okay, you know. I survived, Sammy and I are still close, the world's still spinning. Not so bad, right?”

“I guess not, but I have to say that what little I know about you and Sam's life breaks my heart.”

He turned to reply and found that they were so close, he could feel her whiskey-scented breath on his cheek. Unwilling to resist anymore, Dean slowly bent his head and pressed his mouth to hers.

Given the thoughts he'd been trying unsuccessfully to stifle, Dean figured he would feel a certain level of urgency, assuming Fia didn't object to being kissed. And she was far from objecting, but instead of the keen hunger and passionate demand he would've expected to feel, it was a moment of introduction and exploration, not tentative exactly, but gentle and slow. He'd never experienced anything like it.

Hormones will out, though, and the heat between them intensified. Dean cradled her face in his hands, drawing her closer to his demanding mouth. She responded with a few demands of her own, humming with pleasure.

Abruptly, Fia broke away, trying and failing to stifle a yawn so huge, he actually heard her jaw pop. She closed her mouth with a snap, looking mortified. “Oh my god, I'm _so_ sl .., I mean I'm slee … damn it! I'm _sorry,_ that's what I'm trying to say!”

He laughed. “Don't worry about it. It's been a long day and a lot of whiskey.”

“Yeah, I drank more than I usually do. Guess it caught up with me.” She yawned again, blinking slowly, and Dean couldn't help thinking she looked adorably befuddled. _Wow, did I just call her adorable? Weird._

“You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, I just need to rest for a sec.” Even as she spoke, Fia's eyes were drifting shut and her head slowly settled down onto his shoulder. “So sleepy...” she murmured. With a deep sigh, her entire body went limp.

Son of a bitch. Dean peered down into her face to make sure she was just sleeping and not slipping into an alcohol-induced coma. Satisfied that she was fine, he tried to settle Fia more comfortably against him and go to sleep himself. Unfortunately, their brief kiss had left him seriously aroused and he was grateful for the four inches of polyfill and nylon that separated their bodies. Otherwise, he would never get any rest, because right this second, he was drunk enough to admit to himself that he didn't want to let her go. This was a new experience for Dean, holding a sleeping woman in his arms that he hadn't seen naked. It was so simple and sweet. His eyelids began to droop, so he buried his face in her clean smelling hair and promptly fell asleep.

 

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	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean meets some of Fia's friends.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Fia woke slowly, deeply rested, despite the crick that had developed in her neck. _Why did I sleep sitting up?_ With a mild shock, she realized she was hearing a heartbeat that wasn't hers. _Oh yeah._ Cautiously raising her head, she glanced up at Dean. His head was thrown back and he was snoring lightly, but his arm was still around her.

Feeling awkward and not mentally prepared to deal with whatever was happening here, Fia eased out from under his arm. Quietly standing up, she stepped out of the sleeping bag and into her shoes, then grabbed the water jug. She'd just act like nothing had happened until she could get her bearings back. Fia knew she was being cowardly, but that seemed preferable to having to figure out how she was feeling right now. _Coward it is, then._ Tightening her grip on the jug, she went down to the creek.

Dean cracked one eye to make sure she'd left the campsite. What the hell had happened last night? He'd thought she was adorable, for crissakes! When did he get so soft-hearted? Soft-headed was more like it. He tried to have a stern talk with himself. _Dude, you know you're leavin' here the first chance you get, and she ain't the kind of woman you take lightly. So just leave her the hell alone, alright? Just pretend it never happened._ _She was such a lightweight drunk, probably didn't remember the kiss anyway._

So when Fia returned from the creek, neither made any mention of the previous night's kiss. Instead, they chatted about inconsequential things while she made coffee on her tiny camp stove and Dean rolled up the sleeping bags.

“Hope you like trail mix, because it's what's for breakfast.” She tossed a plastic zip-lock bag to Dean. “And an apple, if you want it.”

He caught the bag midair and frowned down at it. “Trail mix? Isn't that just another name for granola? I'm a man, not a hippie. I need meat for breakfast!”

“If I'm carrying the kitchen on my back, I decide what's on the menu. Next time, if you want bacon, you can haul the frying pan yourself.”

She had a point. Shrugging, Dean sipped his coffee. “I'll take that apple now.”

It wasn't long before they were back on the trail. After recasting a charm not far from the shelter, Fia straightened up from her pack and smiled at him. “Okay, ready to see something really cool?”

“Absolutely.”

“Follow me.” Fia led the way off the path, wading carefully through hip deep ferns and brush. She stopped next to a large tree about 50 feet away and stood smiling with her hand on the trunk. “This is one of the Giant Sequoia that Grandma planted. She made it one of her life's missions to seed redwood groves all up and down the Oregon coast. This is the original grove, though. There are 27 redwoods scattered all over this ridge. See, there's another one, planted a couple years after this gal.” She patted the trunk affectionately before pulling out her pipe and lighting it.

Dean leaned against the trunk. “So how old is it?” He held out his hand for the pipe. Fia looked at him questioningly, but his eyes didn't waver. Shrugging, she handed it over.

“In a couple months, it'll be 37 years old. It's the tree Grandma planted the day I was born.”

“Damn!” Dean exhaled, handing the pipe back. He stepped back, tilting his head to try to see the top. “I thought trees were slow growing, but that thing's gotta be at least 100 feet tall.”

“Closer to 130. Sequoias are some of the fastest growing trees out there. In the right conditions, they can pretty easily manage four feet a year.”

“Aren't redwoods mostly a California thing?”

“There are fossilized redwoods all over the West. There used to be vast forests of them. Grandma just thought it was time for their energy to return to some of those places.”

“You're right, this is pretty cool.”

“Yeah,” she murmured with a quiet smile. Fia relit the pipe and passed it over, watching as Dean inhaled deeply and held his breath, keeping the smoke contained. “Tell me something. Did you really avoid pot all these years because you believed those bullshit D.A.R.E. lectures in school? That doesn't really sound like the Dean I've seen and heard about.”

He let his breath go in a gust of smoke, white against the green of the trees as it lifted in the still air. “Nah, I never listened to that crap. But I got the message all right, almost too late.”

“Too late how?” Fia could see a painful memory hovering just below the surface of Dean's expression.

“For a while there, I thought I had gotten Sammy killed.”

Wanting to give the story her full attention, Fia sat down with her back to the tree. “Go on,” she said, patting the ground next to her in invitation.

Dean obliged, settling into the soft carpet of needles before continuing. “We'd been in Flagstaff more'n a month and I was going stir crazy. Dad was gone all the time, I was almost eighteen, and I was tired of babysitting my kid brother all the time. He was thirteen, plenty old enough to look out for himself once in a while. I started hanging out with these guys I met at school and when they asked if I want to smoke a joint, I said hell yeah. No big deal. We did some other stuff, too, 'shrooms a couple times, acid once and never again. I made sure Sammy got fed and got to school, but most nights, I was out on the town with my buddies. Then one night, I came home and Sam was gone. When I saw that empty bed, I thought I was gonna puke.” Dean couldn't quite bring himself to admit the truth, that he had run through the room, wildly checking under the bed and in the closet, and when it was clear Sam wasn't there, had bolted for the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before he heaved up the pizza they'd ordered between bong hits.

“Did you call your dad?”

Dean's laugh was harsh and grating. “Fuck no, I didn't call my dad! I had to try to find Sam myself. I screwed up and it was on me to fix it. If I could do that, maybe Dad wouldn't actually kill me when he got back. Once I stopped panicking, I could see there were no signs of forced entry or struggle. His stuff was gone, along with my emergency cash. It looked like he'd left on his own, but I couldn't believe he would do that to us. To me. The other possibilities were so much worse, though, that I couldn't think straight. Either my kid brother ditched me or something took him that made it look that way. Whichever it was, I _looked_. I spent a week and a half looking, checking hospitals, motels, even abandoned buildings. I dug around, asked questions everywhere, but couldn't even get a whiff of any supernatural activity. And no sign of Sam. Then Dad came home.” Emerging from his memories, Dean glanced down at Fia, rapt with attention, empty pipe forgotten in her hand. With half a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, he nodded down at it. “You gonna reload that thing?”

“Oh! Yeah, sure. Keep going, though.” Carefully emptying the ashes into her hand to make sure they were out, Fia started setting up another pipeload while Dean went on.

“Man, I really thought he was gonna lay into me when I told him how long Sam had been gone. Had his fists clenched and everything, but he got a hold of himself. Dad's orders were that I would stay in the motel 24 hours a day, in case Sam came back, while he went out looking. I was cool with that. To be honest, I was relieved it wasn't all on me anymore. Hadn't seen my friends since the night Sam disappeared and didn't care. I just wanted my brother back and to shake Flagstaff from my boots. Shoulda known it wasn't gonna be that easy.” For a few seconds, Dean looked down at the pipe Fia had handed to him, then shrugged and lit it. He breathed in a deep hit and then let it out, trying to release the tension in his shoulders with the smoke. “Before Dad left, I was rummaging around in my bag and something fell out. It was a nugget of weed I forgot I had. When Dad saw what it was, he completely lost it. Beat my ass down, hard.”

Fia let out an involuntary sound of horror. “Did that happen a lot?”

“No! That was the only time he ever laid a hand on me like that. And I deserved it! I wished he'd done worse. I was out screwing around, getting high, and my brother disappeared.”

“You did _not_ deserve to get beaten up by your father! You were still a kid, you made a mistake.”

“A mistake that coulda gotten my brother killed. Dad made that point repeatedly, like I wasn't thinking it myself every thirty seconds.”

“It obviously didn't get Sam killed. You were selfish and left him alone too much; he was selfish and ran away. But no one died because of your mutual stupidity.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn't ever gonna take that kinda chance again. After that, the only illegal drugs I ever did were work related.”

“Work related?”

“Mostly painkillers and uppers. Sometimes you don't have the luxury of downtime. So it was that and booze in my off hours.”

Fia was willing to bet the definition of off hours had broadened considerably over the years. She took the pipe from his hand. “What's changed?” she asked, watching him through the lighter flame.

“Really? It was you.” Dean paused as she choked on the hit she'd just taken, coughing raggedly for a few moments before looking up at him with the question she didn't have breath to form in her eyes. “No, you didn't force me into anything.” He chuckled. “Peer pressure isn't so effective on me these days. But you made me take a hard look at my own beliefs and decide whether or not I still thought those things were true. I figured out that the pot didn't make me stupid, being a teenager did that. The whole thing would probably have happened if I'd been stone cold sober the entire time. There just didn't seem to be a reason to be so afraid of smoking out anymore. You also helped with that, since you're about as far from the spaced out, loser wastoid I was scared of becoming as it's possible to get.” 

“Thanks, that's quite a compliment.” Fia's voice was sincere. “What happened? Where was Sam?”

“Dad found his hidey-hole a couple days later, long enough for my black eye to fade. Sam was so miserable, he never even noticed. Kid had adopted a stray dog, but Dad made him drop it off at the Humane Society on the way out of town. The silence in that car was deafening when we finally hit the road and we've never talked about it since.”

“The Amazing Winchesters: Masters of Suppression!” Fia pronounced the title with a theatrical flourish, a ringleader introducing the center ring act.

Huffing out an appreciative laugh tinged with smoke, Dean agreed. “Yeah, that about sums it up.” He got to his feet, feeling strangely lighter, and turned to offer Fia a hand, helping her to her feet. Whatever it was about Fia that made it so easy to open up to her, he was really starting to like it.

Tamping out the pipe and putting it away, Fia paused to wrap her arms around the trunk and stand for a moment in silence, her forehead against the bark. Dean gawked at her, but managed to suppress the nervous laugh that threatened to escape.

When Fia moved back toward the trail, he couldn't resist giving her a hard time. “Here I thought you were so down to earth, turns out you're all hippy dippy. Who woulda thought?”

Far from offended, she smiled sunnily at him. “Hey, I'm not ashamed of who I am. That was my Birth Tree and I love her. The trees are part of my family. Truth is, I feel sorry for people who can't count trees among their friends.” Sobering a little, she looked around her. “In fact, some of these trees have actively helped me, more than once. In my times of greatest pain, whether it's physical or emotional, I can hold onto a tree and feel its age and its strength and its compassion flow through me. You should try it sometime.”

This time, Dean did laugh, a loud, honest laugh. “Yeah, maybe sometime.” As they continued on their way, he chuckled again at the thought.

They followed the fence as it skirted the rest of the redwood grove and then turned back toward the house.

“Oh, hey, there's another of my tree friends.” Fia gestured at the trail ahead of them.

“Which one?” Dean scanned the wide variety of trees to choose from.

“I call her The Ballerina. That tall leafy one right there.” She pointed to a lovely young maple tree.

“Why a ballerina?”

“You don't see it?”

“What I see is a tree.”

She stepped close and took his arm, orienting him correctly and pointing over his shoulder, tracing the outline of the tree with her finger as she spoke. “It looks like a ballet pose. She's standing on one leg, right, and see there, that's the other leg lifted up behind her, and then there's one arm up in front and the other arm up behind her.”

He followed the motion of her hand. “I see it! Arabesque.” The word popped out before he thought about it.

Fia looked at him with respect and not a little amazement. “Really. You know the names for ballet positions?”

He tried to meet her eyes, but failed. “Uh, yeah.”

“Sounds like another story.” She smiled encouragingly, but he didn't see it.

“Not much to it. We spent a couple weeks in a crappy motel in Pensacola and the only channel that came in was this weird public access thing that was all ballet, all the time. At first, I was just watching it 'cause hey,” he grinned, “ballerinas in leotards. But then I got hooked. It's incredible what those people can do, especially the women. Did you know it totally mangles their feet? They're like warriors going into battle!” Caught up in his enthusiasm, Dean forgot to be embarrassed for a second. When he remembered and glanced at Fia, he was shocked to see that she wasn't laughing at him. On the contrary, she was listening to him with every appearance of serious attention. “Anyway, ever since then, I sneak in a little ballet watching when Sam's not around. He thinks it's porn I'm hiding when I close the laptop.” His grin was unrepentant. “Hell, let's be honest, it usually is. But sometimes it's ballet.”

She had to laugh. “It shows you're a well-rounded person, right?”

“Sure, I'll go along with that.”

By the time they approached the house, the sun was low in the west. As they walked up the drive, Fia glanced in Dean's direction. “Listen, I know it's been a long day, but I have one more friend I want you to meet today.” She stopped at the giant oak that stood tall over the porch. Taking Dean's hand, she pulled him toward the tree and placed his palm on the bark. “Oak Friend, this is Dean. Dean, this is Oak Friend.” Smiling a little, she let go and stepped back. Dean self-consciously shoved his hands into his pockets.

“First time I've ever been introduced to a tree, but okay.”

“Oak Friend was here before the house was built. It's like he protects the family and this place. I'd even say he's saved me once or twice, when things were bad. He's as much my family as anyone ever has been.”

“That reminds me, where _is_ your family? I see pictures all over the house, but I never hear you talk about anyone except in past tense. And you haven't had a single personal phone call since I've been here. What gives?”

Fia turned and leaned back against the trunk, eyes closed. Her voice was grim when she spoke. “They're all dead.” Her eyes were dry when she opened them and looked out over the ocean. “I had a baby sister, a mom and dad, a grandma, grandpa, a h...” Her voice broke and she swallowed hard before going on. “A happy life, but one by one, they all died. So I'm alone and I've learned to be okay with that. I wish they were still here, of course I do. But I can be happy by myself, too. So I am.” Fia shrugged and pushed away from the trunk, pausing to turn her head and whisper to the tree, “Thank you, my friend.”

Dean felt a twinge of sympathy, and ruthlessly suppressed one of curiosity. She'd tell him the stories, if and when she wanted to. But in the meantime, he wasn't letting go of the subject just yet. “Sorry about your family. Trust me, I know how much that sucks. But it doesn't mean you can't have friends, does it? Go out on dates? Be a part of the world?” There was a twinge of something else entirely when he forced himself to mention dating. Dean flatly refused to allow the word _jealousy_ to cross his mind, just told himself she would be safer if she had a boyfriend. He chose not to specify if he meant safer for Fia or safer for him. He bent his head, trying to catch her eye. “What are you afraid of?”

Deftly avoiding his gaze, Fia stepped onto the porch, throwing a retort over her shoulder. “Ha, you're one to talk! How many friends do you have, Mr. Social Butterfly? _Not_ counting Sam and Bobby.”

Dean followed her, objecting. “Hey, they have my back, that's what friends do!”

“Maybe you need that kind of support system. I don't.”

“Bullshit. How long have you lived here by yourself?”

“Five years, so what?”

That rocked him back. “Five years?!”

She could read him like a book. “Don't look so horrified, Dean! I didn't sleep alone that whole time, so you can untwist your knickers. I've met plenty of men good enough to take into my bed, but none good enough to bring into my life. I'd rather be alone than settle for less than I deserve.”

Without thinking, Dean stepped close and put his hands on her shoulders, studying her face. “So what do you deserve?”

Despite the way her heart hammered in her chest, Fia smiled serenely up at him and leaned close enough that he felt her breath on his lips when she answered him. “Everything.” Slipping out from under his hands, she quickly pulled open the door and disappeared inside, leaving him more than a little off balance.

Dean snorted in disgust with himself when he realized his hands were still outstretched toward where she had been standing. He snatched them back and then opened the door with more force than strictly necessary. _For fuck's sake, dude, you GOTTA keep your hands off her! Doesn't matter what she said, she's no casual fling. You heard her, she deserves everything and that's something you ain't ever gonna be able to give._ Feeling unsettled, he bypassed the door into the great room, where he could hear her moving around in the kitchen. Instead, he turned and went up the stairs, disappearing into his room with a sense of guilty relief.

Fia continued putting away what was left of their camp food. The sound of his door closing left her feeling half grateful and half disappointed. That moment of intense physical awareness on the porch was seriously affecting her emotional balance, but she'd had all day to think it over. As attracted as she was to Dean, and as much as she was coming to enjoy his company, it just wasn't a good idea. She wasn't in the market for a long-term relationship. And while the short-term would almost certainly be mind-blowingly fantastic, it would probably end badly. That could cost her the friendship with Sam and Bobby, the first new friends she'd made in a long time and her only other connection to the world of hunters. Despite her brave words to Dean, she didn't want to mess that up. _Quit playing with fire then! Keep your distance and everything will be fine._

Feeling more clearheaded, Fia realized she was starving and decided to throw together a quick dinner for herself before heading upstairs to shower. She was rinsing her plate at the sink when she heard Dean come down the stairs. “There's extra chicken and rice on the stove if you're hungry.” Turning around, she found she was glad she'd finished the sentence, because she couldn't have said a word to save her life. He'd clearly just come from showering and changing into clean clothes. As he rummaged around for a plate and fork, Fia tried to regain control of herself, but to no avail. All she could think about was how his damp hair would feel, how he smelled like soap, how he had been naked under hot running water minutes ago...

When he turned toward the stove, Fia jumped a little and swiveled away to hide her burning face. She didn't notice that he kept his eyes firmly on the job at hand, never once glancing in her direction.

“This looks good.” Dean tried to sound casual and thought he did pretty good at it. Especially considering what he'd been doing 10 minutes ago, thinking about her in the shower, seeing her face as the pleasure washed over him. But he couldn't look her in the eyes; it would be written all over his face and he didn't want her to think he was some kind of creep. Even if he was.

“Yeah, it was alright.” Her voice jerked him back to the present and he busied himself pulling out his chair with unnecessary precision. Fia continued, oblivious to his discomfort. “Anyway, I'm pretty tired and I'm going to go to bed early. Hope I'm not coming down with something.” Maybe she could play sick and keep to herself for a couple days, until this rush of hormones and intimacy subsided.

He risked a quick glance up at her, then looked back down at his dinner. “You do look kinda flushed. An early night would probably be a good idea.”

Fia's blush deepened and she quickly turned toward the stairs. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“G'night, Fia. Sleep well.” He watched her disappear through the doorway, feeling uneasy. She'd seemed awfully tense and in a hurry to get out of here. He glanced down and sighed in relief. No, he hadn't spooked her with an unintentional boner. He really hoped he wasn't giving off any kind of sex-crazed vibe, because right now he was feeling kind of sex-crazed.

Trying to push the whole thing out of his head, Dean searched for a distraction. Taking his plate over to the couch, he turned on the tv and tried to lose himself in the moving images. He was absorbed in the plot when an agile grey shape jumped onto the cushion next to him, making him jump.

“Mrow.” Liath looked at him expectantly.

“What? So now we're supposed to be friends, just 'cause I got food? No way. Go on, cat, get outta here!” He waved his arm at the feline, who regally ignored the motion.

“Mrow.”

“Uh-uh. I don't have to buy my affection, so you can just take off right now.”

Liath stretched out his neck and rubbed a velvety cheek on the back of Dean's arm. His fur was so soft! Dean couldn't resist; he raised a hand to stroke the cat. Liath calmly dodged him, looking at the plate, then back at Dean.

“Mrow.”

“You gotta be kidding me!” Dean was starting to feel reluctant admiration for the fuzzball. He sure as hell knew what he wanted and how to get it. “Fine, you little blackmailer!” He pulled a small piece of chicken off the plate and held it out to the cat, but pulled back a little when Liath stretched out for it. “This means you gotta let me pet you, right? Okay.” And he surrendered the meat to the cat, who devoured it with every appearance of enjoyment. Dean took the opportunity to ruffle the cat's fur around his ears. He was startled when Liath began to purr, sounding more like a tractor than a cat.

“Alright, maybe we can be friends. Just don't tell her about the chicken, she probably has some rule against it.” Giving the cat one last scritch, he went back to his dinner.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who can resist Marvin Gaye?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've been waiting for the smut, here it is (finally). If you're looking to avoid the explicit smut, just stop reading when Fia says “I'm so glad you said that.”  
> 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Resolute, Fia strode downstairs early the next morning. She was _not_ going to hide away in her room. That would be ridiculous. She was a grown woman who made her own decisions and she was deciding not to get entangled with Dean. Simple as that. Her body would just have to go along with her brain on this one.

That said, she wasn't above doing chores outside the whole day if it put some distance between her and the source of temptation sleeping upstairs. She was in charge of her body, but she didn't want to have to argue with it all day long. Finishing her toast and coffee, Fia grabbed her work gloves and a big floppy hat, whistling softly to herself as she headed out to weed the garden.

Hours later, she straightened up from the last bed, wiping the sweat from her face and carefully stretching her back. She'd been neglecting this chore for a while and it had showed. Not now, though. Fia looked around with a satisfied air at the once-more tidy garden, then picked up her basket of greens and flowers, along with some late season berries. Lunch was going to be good today!

She was feeling so cheerful that not even the sight of Dean sitting at the kitchen island could throw her off. Smiling in his general direction, Fia took her goodies to the sink. She stuffed the dahlias into a vase of cold water, setting it down in the center of the island. “I've got plenty of fresh greens and a couple of carrots, if you want a salad.” She started rinsing the vegetables under the faucet.

Dean looked up from the remains of his gigantic sandwich, potato chip halfway to his mouth. “Uh, no thanks, I'm good.”

“Suit yourself.” She shrugged, silently congratulating herself on discovering a successful strategy for dealing with her unreasonable attraction to Dean. It was just a matter of never fully focusing on him, so the impact of his presence never actually landed.

Despite her calm exterior, he could feel the tension in the air. It seemed pretty clear from the way she'd acted last night and the distance she was maintaining today that she was regretting the drunken kiss. She obviously wanted to put a halt to their growing closeness and he wasn't one to go where he wasn't wanted. He washed down the last bite of sandwich with a gulp of beer, playing it casual. “So, got any plans for today?”

“I thought after lunch, I'd tackle refreshing the charms on the outbuildings. At least I've kept up with the house protections, so I don't have to worry about that. But that still leaves the garage, the greenhouse, the studio, and the gazebo.”

Dean jumped at the chance to get out of the house and give them both some space. “You know, I could do that for you. I really can't face hitting the books again, and you already spent all morning working. I'd have come out to help you weed, by the way, except that I can't tell a dandelion from a daisy. I was afraid I'd do more harm than good, as usual.”

Fia looked at him speculatively. There was no doubt he could do the charms himself, and she'd been itching to get back into the studio. Why not? Decision made, she nodded. “Okay, thanks, that would be great.”

“Tell you what, I'll go gather the materials while you write up a list of where all the charms are. Then I can make myself useful and you can have a free afternoon.”

“You've got a deal.”

Dean left the room and much of the tension in Fia's shoulders went with him. That hadn't been so bad, but it left her feeling a little like she'd been walking a high wire. Anyway, her reaction to him seemed less intense than it had been last night, so maybe she'd be able to get through this with her sanity intact. Grabbing a pencil and sheet of paper from the pad by the phone, she quickly jotted down the location of each charm that needed reinforcement. _Shit, we forgot the stairs down to the beach_ , she thought, adding it to the list. _That ought to keep him busy and out of the house for a couple of hours._ Humming to herself, Fia went back to making her salad.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Dean reached the top of the beach stairs and turned to look back out over the water. He couldn't get over how beautiful this place was. And how well protected, he thought, looking down at the charms worked into the handrails on both sides. It was only then that he noticed the area paved with pebbles just in front of the top step actually had a devil's trap subtly worked into the pattern. He mentally saluted Grandma Ailsa for her cunning and turned to follow the path away from the beach.

He approached the studio, relieved to be almost done with the chore. There were more charms than he'd expected and most of them were so worn down that they'd needed a complete overhaul. He just had to finish this one last building and then he could go and make himself something to eat. Damn, even a salad sounded pretty good about now. Dismissing the thought, he noticed for the first time that there were lights on inside the building. And now that he was paying attention, he could hear music playing, too. _Fuck me, that's Air Supply!_

He stood in the open door, looking around for Fia. He realized that she was up in the loft, puttering around the kitchenette, singing along at the top of her lungs. “I'm all out of love, I'm so lost without you...” The music was loud enough that she couldn't hear him climbing the stairs, at least not until he hit the creaky board at the top. Her singing stopped abruptly and she whirled from the sink, clutching a coffee cup in one hand.

“No, don't stop on my account, I love this song.” Surprising himself, he started to sing along, big cheesy grin on his face. Within moments, they were both hamming it up and laughing at each other's dramatics. Finally, they couldn't sing for giggling and had to stop to catch their breath.

“Air Supply, Dean, really? Never would have guessed.”

“Hey, when you're a little kid, you don't know what's cool and what's not. I freakin' _loved_ this song, but Dad wouldn't have anything but blues and rock in the car. That reminds me, NEVER tell Sam about this!”

“I promise. You know, you have a really nice voice. You should sing more.”

“Nah, karaoke's not my thing, too many people. Here in private is okay, but an audience is a whole other thing.”

“Me, too. Though I do love a good singalong to the Shuffle All. You game?” There was a tiny bit of challenge in her eyes that he couldn't resist.

“Bet I know more lyrics than you.”

Fia raised one eyebrow. “Since my collection has a lot of stuff that came out after 1973, I sincerely doubt it.”

“Hey, Zepplin didn't break up until '80! Bring it on!”

They listened to the intro of the next song, neither one recognizing the tune. Then the lyrics started. “ _I want your hands on me, put 'em on, put 'em on, put 'em on m..._ ” Fia spun around and forwarded the track, trying to sound casual as she muttered, “Maybe not that one.” She could feel Dean's eyes on her back as she stood at the stereo and her face flushed with embarrassment and something else. The new song came on. “ _I want you! I want you so ba..._ ” Without comment, Fia hit the forward button again.

“Third time's the charm.” Dean's voice was full of amusement.

Her eyes got big as she recognized the first notes of the next song. When the lyrics started, her shoulders slumped in resignation, but she didn't turn around. _“I've been really trying, baby...”_ And then, Dean started to sing along softly. _“Trying to hold back these feelings for so long now.”_ It was getting more and more difficult to remember why she was resisting the pull of her own cravings. _“And if you feel like I feel , baby...”_ Turning to face him, Fia found him standing a few feet away, still singing. _“Come on, oh, come on, let's get it on.”_ There was a small smile on his face, one hand held out to her in invitation. If it was going to happen, she would have to literally take that first step. With a deep breath to try to calm her jittery nerves, she moved forward and took his hand.

Instead of dragging her into a kiss the way she half expected, Dean took the forgotten coffee cup from her and set it down, pulling her into his arms and swaying to the music, his low croon rustling her hair. The feel of his body pressed the length of hers was enough to make Fia's knees weak and she held tight to his arms to keep from stumbling. She realized her heart was pounding, and was glad her face was pressed to his shoulder so that he couldn't see how strongly this was affecting her.

As the song came to a close, he shifted so that they were face to face, but it was Fia who dragged Dean into the kiss. And there was no trace of the tender prelude of their first encounter. This was fiery, greedy, both sides desperate for more. He pressed her back against the counter as though he wanted to push past, not just her clothes, but her skin and bones, to get to the very heart of her. And she welcomed him, pressing back just as fiercely.

She moaned when his hand descended to her breast, her heart leaping into her throat and her stomach dropping, leaving a hollow emptiness she hungered for him to fill. The surge of desire was almost violent, so powerful that Fia felt overwhelmed by the demands her body was making and had to break off the kiss, trembling a little.

Dean felt her shiver and his voice was concerned as he took her by the shoulders and peered into her face. “Hey, are you okay? I can back off.” It might kill him, but he could do it.

“No, please don't, I just needed to catch my breath.” She smiled up at him, laying a hand against his cheek. “You just overloaded the circuits for a second there, no harm done. But, and I hope this doesn't bother you, but how would you feel about me taking the lead this first time, just so I can go at my own pace?”

He wondered if something had happened in her past to make her anxious to be the one controlling the situation. Dean resolved to follow her cues at any cost, no matter how much he might want to give himself free rein. He slapped a comical leer on his face that did nothing to disguise the heat in his eyes. “Sexy woman wants to take charge? I'd feel _great_ about that!”

Fia smiled in wicked promise. “I'm so glad you said that.”

She took his hand and led him to the couch, pressing lightly on his shoulders to encourage Dean to sit. Straddling his lap, she took his face in both hands and kissed him slowly and thoroughly. Releasing his mouth, she moved down to his neck, breathing his scent in, then set her teeth lightly on the sensitive skin below his ear and was rewarded by a shudder running through him.

Her fingers were busy unfastening the buttons on his flannel shirt and, _thank the goddess!_ , he wasn't wearing a t-shirt under it. She ran her hands under the open shirt, drunk on the feel of his bare skin, and kissed him again. Slowly, giving her plenty of time to object, he slid her shirt up, smoothing his hands up the skin of her torso. She drew back and peeled the shirt off, tossing it to the floor before returning to his mouth. His hands moved to the clasp of her bra, pausing there, waiting for her to give the okay. She whispered “Yes” against his lips and with the skill of long practice, he flicked open the clasp, drawing the bra forward over her arms. Discarding it, he took her breasts in his hands, reveling in their soft weight. He lowered his mouth to one tight nipple and suckled it. She gasped and her eyes closed as she gave herself over to the wonders of his mouth on her body, passionate and demanding.

Soon, though, she claimed his mouth with hers again, before sliding from his lap. She knelt between his knees and began a deliciously slow journey down his neck and torso, licking and kissing and nipping, not always gently, until he was gasping and shivering under her. Kissing his belly just above the waistband of his jeans, she looked up at him as she began to unfasten his fly.

Her voice was husky. “I think this will be easiest if you take these off. Why don't you do that and I'll be right back.” Rising to her feet with a slow smile, she turned and went into the bathroom.

“Happy to oblige,” Dean grinned, jumping to his feet. He shucked his jeans with alacrity, and was just sitting back down when Fia appeared, condom in hand. She tossed it on the table and looked at him with approval, her eyes roving over his erection with such delicious intensity that he imagined he could feel her gaze on his skin.

“Now, where were we? Ah yes.” She tossed a pillow onto the floor in front of him, but before she could kneel, Dean hooked one finger into her waistband of her jeans.

“Maybe you should take these off?” he suggested hopefully.

Fia laughed softly. “You present a tempting case, but I think not just yet.” Kneeling down on the pillow, she looked at him. “I get to take the lead, remember? You can have it your way next time...” She trailed off as she leaned over to kiss him again, enjoying the smooth hardness pressing against her belly.

She skimmed her breasts down the length of his body, settling back on the cushion. Reaching out, she lightly slid her hand around his cock, barely touching his skin as her eyes drank their fill. Finally, Fia took him in a gentle grip and leaned forward to press a warm kiss to the base, trailing her tongue up to circle the tip. Dean groaned as the pleasure washed over him, but refused to close his eyes, mesmerized by the enjoyment written plain on her face as she caressed him.

His eyes closed of their own volition a moment later when Fia slowly slid her warm wet mouth down onto his cock, taking him deep into her throat and holding him here. It was ecstasy. And then she started to moan, low tuneless sounds of pleasure, and the vibration in her throat made him jump and open his eyes again. From that moment, it was sheer, mindless bliss punctuated by images of her, with her eyes closed and her hair wild, lost to everything but the increasing fever of excitement she was creating in them both.

When she slowly released him from her mouth and sat back, it took Dean a moment to regain his faculty of language. “Damn, woman, you are smokin' hot!”

She laughed, reaching behind her for the condom and tearing it open. “You think so, huh?” Expertly rolling the rubber into place, Fia looked at him with a smile full of impish promise. “You ain't seen nothin' yet.”

Standing up, she peeled down her jeans and panties in one movement and stepped barefoot out of them. Straddling him once more, she offered up one breast to him and arched back in pleasure when he took her nipple into his mouth. She allowed Dean's hands to range over every part of her they could reach, with one exception. Every time he tried to slide a hand between her legs, Fia would move to prevent it, refusing to give him access to her slick heat. “Not yet...” she moaned as he kissed her neck, one hand sneaking up her thigh, only to be pushed away “...not until I say.”

At that reminder of who was supposed to be in charge here, Dean satisfied himself with accepting what she offered, glorying in the feel of her under his hands. He traced the line of her back, her arms, her thighs, returning often to lightly knead her breasts and pinch one nipple while he suckled the other. Once it was clear he understood her boundaries, Fia thrust her hands into his hair and gave herself over to his ministrations, until she started to feel light-headed with lust.

Then, gently, she took his wrists in her hands and lifted them from her body, pressing his arms back against the couch. Fia kissed him deeply, then looked into his eyes as she began to slide her dripping pussy down onto his cock with agonizing slowness. Her eyes grew distant and then closed as the feel of him inside her, the fullness and the friction of it, overpowered all of her other senses.

Dean knew that what she wanted was for him to just hold still and let her have total control of their motion. In spite of the urgings of his own body, he'd vowed to himself that he would follow Fia's lead. He wanted to be worthy of her trust. So using all of his willpower, he sat there motionless, hands and jaw clenched, as fraction by slippery fraction, she took him inside of her.

At first, he thought of it as an act of generous self-sacrifice. But that changed when she'd finally taken him as deep as he could go. Incredibly, he could _feel_ Fia's orgasm start, her internal muscles tightening and pulsing around him. She cried out as her fingers dug into his shoulders, and her body bent and flowed with her ecstasy. Despite her abandon, she rolled her hips slowly and steadily, not raising up at all, just endless full connection.

He soon realized that her subtle movements were overwhelming his senses. While she had reached her peak, and had somehow turned it into a plateau, his own pleasure was steadily rising to meet her. It wasn't long before Dean was immersed in a euphoria he'd never experienced, short of actual climax. He hadn't known you could feel this good for this long without coming. He gave himself over to it, and to her, floating in what seemed to be an endless rapture constantly on the edge of complete fulfillment.

An eternal instant later though, a change crept into her rhythm, an increase in speed and momentum that quickly had him scrambling for his self-control.

“Do you want to move?” Her voice was low and breathless, and she couldn't prevent the soft cry that escaped as well.

“God, yes! Please!”

“Come to me, Dean!”

He needed no other encouragement, wrapping his arms around her and driving his hips up, her cries ringing in his ears. It only took a few strokes for his universe to explode into dazzling shards.

When Dean returned to his body, it was to find that Fia had collapsed against him, her face buried against his neck. She moaned softly and her breath caught, her body quivering. He thought he could still just barely feel the flutter of her internal muscles on his softening cock. _She's still coming!_ The thought was incredibly exciting and he felt an answering pulse of desire.

Fia stirred and pulled herself upright. Her eyes drifted open and slowly focused on his face, then unfocused again as another tremor went through her. When it had passed, she smiled at him a little blearily. “Sometimes it takes me a while to rev down, sorry.”

“Now why in the hell would you apologize for that?” His voice was low, but Dean was perplexed and a little mad at her for saying it. “It's the hottest thing ever!”

“I'm glad you think so, not everyone does. It's made me a little self-conscious.” She started to shift her weight up. “I should move.”

“No, not yet.” He gripped her hips and pulled her back down and was rewarded by seeing her eyes go vague again. “Tell me something, okay? When you asked to be in charge, I thought maybe you'd had some kind of trauma. But after what I just experienced, that doesn't seem right. So what? Was it just a whim? Or a test to see how cooperative I'd be?”

She smiled hugely. “The truth? I just really wanted to savor my first orgasm with you, and it was coming on like a freight train.” His cock twitched at her words and Fia lost focus for a second, her body tense and fluid at the same time. Recovering herself, she ran a finger across his lower lip. “I knew that if I let you touch me, it would happen too fast. So I slowed us down some.” While she was talking, Dean had started to slowly press his quickly hardening cock up into her, loving the power he had to make her breath quicken. Damn, he hadn't had a reload time this fast since he was 19!

She caught her breath and rolled her hips, making him gasp a little, too. “Any complaints?”

“Nope, none, not a single complaint.” Right this second, Dean couldn't remember what he could possibly have to complain about. “But it would probably be a good idea if I put on a new condom.”

Fia moaned and shuddered against him. “Okay, just a sec...” she breathed, eyes closing as her fingers dug into his arms. After a moment, she took a deep breath and slowly lifted herself off of his now-standing cock. Collapsing on the couch next time him, she laughed a little to herself and tried to control her trembling.

He pressed a quick, enthusiastic kiss to her mouth before standing and heading to the bathroom. “Speaking of good ideas, didn't you say something about me getting to run things this time?”

Her heart rate, which had been settling down, now accelerated again in a pleasantly exhilarating way. “I seem to recall something of the kind. What do you have in mind?”

“I want to fuck you in a real bed, for starters.” Dean grinned at her as he came out of the bathroom, still hard and ready. “Loved the couch, no kidding, but I'm gonna need some room to work. Do you mind going back to the house?”

Her eyes glittered as they focused on his erection. “Your wish is my command.” Fia stood and headed for the stairs.

“Aren't you gonna put on your clothes?”

“What for? We're the only ones here and the sun feels great on bare skin.”

“What the hell, why not?” Dean took the hand she was holding out to him and followed her down the stairs and out the door.

The dirt path was soft under their feet as the crossed the meadow. She was right, the sun did feel good, but the sunset breeze was a little chilly and it was good to come into the warm kitchen.

Fia turned and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body to his, and whispered in his ear. “Your bed or mine?”

“Which one's bigger?”

“Mine. Follow me.”

“Hold on.” Dean tugged her back into his arms and smiled down at her with a wicked look that sent a spike of desireshooting through Fia's center. “Do you have a safe word?”

“Of course, I do. It's Cincinnati.”

“Cincinnati? Why?”

“I wanted something that was unmistakeable and that would never be said accidentally in the heat of the moment. No offense to Ohio, but Cincinnati doesn't exactly scream sex.” He laughed. “What's your safe word?” Fia was curious.

The laughter faded and Dean looked at her with passionate eyes. “Oh, I don't think you'll need to know that for a while yet.” Taking her hand, he led her up the stairs.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 

 

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um, pie? And the Talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a bit o' smut here, too. Anything explicit shows up after Dean kisses Fia in the kitchen.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Dean woke up slowly, luxuriously. Damn, he felt good! Smiling to himself, he glanced down at Fia, who slept sprawled bonelessly across his body, her head pillowed on his chest. His smile got wider as he remembered just how much fun they'd had last night. He started to wonder how she felt about morning sex, when a new thought brought him up short.

_Oh shit. I'm gonna have to give her the “Babe I'm gonna leave you” speech. I hate that!_

But there was no avoiding it. He couldn't just put on his clothes, mumble something about calling her, and hit the road. Not this time. He was stuck here for who knew how much longer and he couldn't let her think their relationship would go anywhere. It would have been convenient if he could have believed her story about not needing anyone in her life. But he sensed a depth of loneliness in Fia that he was reasonably sure she wasn't even aware of. And he was never gonna stop being a hunter, which meant there was zero chance he would ever be able to settle down with her. Hadn't worked with Lisa, wouldn't work here. It wouldn't be fair to let her think he might be the answer to her loneliness.

So the only thing to do was to be totally straight with her and deal with the awkwardness that inevitably followed. Great. He dismissed the temptation to postpone the Talk until after he tried to coax her into a good morning roll-in-the-hay. Instead, he closed his eyes, figuring he'd avoid the whole thing for a little longer while he got some more sleep.

Some of his unease must have communicated itself to her, because Fia stretched, breathing deep as her eyes opened and focused on his face. “Hmm, good morning!” Sliding her hand up his neck, she drew him down for a kiss.

Dean found himself sinking into the moment. _Maybe we'll talk later._

But then she pulled back and sat up in bed, pulling the sheet with her. Fia futilely tried to straighten her hair, then gave it up as a lost cause and turned to look at him. “Before this goes any further, I need to talk to you for a minute.”

“O-o-okay, what about?” Dean felt a moment of panic. _Is she gonna ask me to stay?_

“About where this is going...” _Oh shit, here it comes!_ “...or more accurately, not going.”

Surprise effectively rendered him speechless and Fia continued. “Look, last night was a _hell_ of a lot of fun.” She couldn't restrain the gigantic smile that broke out on her face, and he found himself grinning back, still somewhat stunned. “But we both know that you're moving on as soon as this curse is broken. You will always be a hunter. And that's okay, because the truth is that I like my life the way it is and I'm not looking to add a permanent relationship to that life. So I think it would be better for us both to understand from the start that this is temporary, no strings attached. We can have fun together while you're here, then no hard feelings when you go. Sound fair?”

“That sounds _so_ fair!” Relief made him enthusiastic and he pulled Fia to him, kissing her fiercely, evoking a response that more than matched his own passion. They left words behind then, instead communicating volumes with the touch of their hands and the press of their lips, the quiet of the morning broken only by hoarse exclamations and whispered pleas, interspersed with wordless sounds of pleasure.

It was only later, while Fia was in the shower, that a thought occurred to Dean. _Did I just get the Talk?_ He had to chuckle ruefully at himself. _Well, that's a first._ He wasn't totally sure he liked it, even though it had ended up way better than he could have hoped.

In the shower, Fia hummed contentedly. She'd figured Dean would be okay with a casual relationship, but sometimes egos got bruised in this situation. She was glad to see he wasn't one of those guys. This way, everything was cut and dried. Safe.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

They ate breakfast together on the back porch, watching the patches of morning sun glitter on the surface of the creek and chatting companionably while drinking their coffee. Although the sexual magnetism shimmered between them more than once, there was a marked decrease in the actual tension of their interactions. Fia congratulated herself on getting their relationship clearly defined. It was just better if everyone knew where they stood.

She struggled to pay attention to what he was saying, but kept getting distracted. He had a beautiful mouth. Thoughts and images began to flash through her mind, of that beautiful mouth in action, and she completely lost track of what he was saying.

“...if you don't mind?” His voice rose questioningly.

Embarrassed, Fia mentally shook herself and met his amused eyes. It was obvious he knew what she'd been thinking. Damn it, it shouldn't be legal for a man to look that sexy eating toast!

Straightening in her chair, she tried to ignore his grin. “I'm sorry, what did you say?”

“I said I still need to refresh the charms on your studio, then I thought I'd walk out to the gate, maybe patrol along the fence a little. I may not be able to leave, but I can at least try to keep an eye on the place. Since I'll be away from the house, I'd like to take my knife with me, if it's okay with you?”

“I guess so. No guns, though, okay?”

“You got it.” He brushed crumbs from his fingers and gulped the last of his coffee, then stood. “I'm gonna get on that, I'll probably be back around lunchtime.” He strode past her to the kitchen door and disappeared.

Fia tried to convince herself that she wasn't disappointed by Dean's abrupt and casual departure. They weren't really lovers, this was nothing more than an extended hook-up. It was better anyway if they didn't get too demonstrative with each...

Her thought was interrupted when Dean reappeared in the doorway and approached her chair. He bent and took her face in his hands, kissing her with all the passion of her earlier imaginings.

Pulling away, he looked down at her with a smile full of promise. “I'll see _you_ later!” Then he was gone.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Hours later, when Dean walked into the kitchen, there was an amazing smell in the air. Fia was in the kitchen and there was something that looked suspiciously like a fresh pie sitting on the low marble baking counter. She looked up as he entered and shot him a dazzling smile.

“Hey there! I picked some blackberries yesterday, so I thought I'd make a pie. I think it's cool enough to eat now.”

“You made a pie?” He stalked over to where she was standing and looked down at the dish. “Fresh blackberry pie?” He turned to her with the biggest smile she'd yet to see on his face and took her in his arms, dipping her back and kissing her thoroughly.

When he set Fia back on her feet and went to grab a plate and fork, it took a few seconds for her brain to start firing on all cylinders again. By the time she was able to form a coherent thought, he was cutting himself a grandiose slice.

Unable, or unwilling, to deny herself, Fia slid her body between Dean and the counter. She pushed her hands into his hair and drew his mouth down to hers, whispering against his lips. “Pie later, this now.” And she kissed him with all the morning's pent up lust.

Dean dropped the spatula and wrapped his arms around her, forgetting the baked goods instantly and turning his full attention to the woman he was holding.

Breaking off the kiss, Fia toyed with the top button on his flannel shirt, looking up at him. “Okay?”

“Oh, more than okay!” He pushed aside the abandoned pie as she lifted herself up onto the counter, pulling him to her and wrapping her legs around his waist. “What's the highest rating above okay?” Dean started to lose track of what he was saying as she kissed him just below the jawline, unbuttoning his shirt by touch. “That's my ans...”

“Shut up and kiss me.” She chuckled and claimed his mouth with hers, pushing the shirt back off his shoulders, inspiring him to fumble at her own buttons. When she was finally free of layers of cloth and lace, the feel of his skin against Fia's bare breasts made her shudder and hold him tight. “You don't know what you do to me,” she breathed. “Every time we touch,” she kissed his neck, “it's like an electric current running through me,” and gently bit his ear, “like I might fly apart any second.”

He groaned and pressed his denim-covered erection against her. “Me, too.”

“Then let's get a condom. I don't know how much longer I can wait to feel you inside me.”

Her plainspoken words sent a thrill of fervent agreement through him. Feeling like a hero, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket. “Got one right here!” He grinned, a mixture of pride and desire in his expression.

“Bless you!” Her words were heartfelt. Fia was unfastening her jeans and Dean helped her slide them off. But instead of proceeding to take his own pants off, he dropped hers to the floor and knelt down on them, pressing her legs open.

“Mind a slight change in plans?” His expression was lecherous as he waited for her answer, tormenting her with the feel of his breath on her already wet pussy.

Nodding, she moaned, “Anythin...” Her answer was cut off by a sob of pleasure as his tongue lightly pressed against her clit, then slowly circled it. She clutched his head, riding the waves of bliss that seemed to roll endlessly through her.

At last, Fia's desire for more built to an irresistible pitch and she gently encouraged Dean to stand. Once more, she wrapped arms and legs around him, shaking slightly. “Please, I need to feel you now...” She kissed him, excited even more by the taste of her own sex on his lips.

With a low growl of agreement, Dean took a step back, stripping off his jeans while Fia tore open the condom wrapper. He swayed on his feet and had to grip the counter when she took him into her hands and slid the condom into place.

He stepped between her thighs and with no hesitation, pressed his cock smoothly and swiftly to her fullest depth. She lurched against him with a wordless cry of ecstasy. He began to move slowly inside her with long, full strokes, gritting his teeth in his effort to maintain a somewhat leisurely pace.

Fia would have none of it, though, gripping his ass and gasping in a husky voice, “I want you to fuck me, hard and fast, ple-ea-se...” Her words trailed into a low moan and her body undulated against him, urging him to forfeit control and give his lust free rein.

He couldn't have resisted even if he'd wanted to. And he really, really didn't want to. Abandoning all efforts at finesse and restraint, he plunged into her over and over again, incited by her cries for more.

And when he stiffened with a throaty cry, pulsing deep within her, Fia lost all sense of the world around her. Every particle of her being was centered on the storm of glory raging through her. Eventually, the tempest subsided for them both and they clung to each other in the aftermath.

“Whoa.”

She laughed, sending a pleasant shock through them both. “Ditto.” Her eyes drifted closed as the shock expanded through her center. “Mmm...”

“That never gets old.”

Fia looked at him from heavy-lidded eyes. “What?”

“Watching your face when you come. It's becoming my favorite expression.”

“Pretty fond of it myself.” She breathed deep as he gently thrust once more.

“There it is again.”

“Hmmm?” Dean could see she was losing track of the conversation. He kissed her neck as her body tightened and she clutched him to her. After a few moments, her eyes opened and she smiled softly at him.

He smiled back. “You are amazing.” Kissing her one more time, he slowly withdrew, feeling her shudder at the friction.

Linking her hands behind his neck, she beamed at him. “I think we're mutually amazed. That performance deserves blackberry pie.”

Dean's eyes widened. “Oh my god, I forgot there's pie, too!” He kissed her hard and fast, then hopped up to sit next to her, grabbing the pie dish and a fork. He dug up a monster bite of the still warm pie and held it out to her. “Ladies first.”

Chuckling, she waved it off and watched him stuff his mouth full of fruit and crust. Taking the fork from him, she scooped up a more feasible bite for herself. “You're just a big kid, aren't you?” Fia paused for a moment, relishing the sweet tartness of the pie. Blackberry was her favorite.

“Yeah, a kid who wants his fork back.” He took it from her and shoveled up another bite. “Holy crap, this is good!”

Reaching over and grabbing a second fork from the drawer, Fia commented drily. “I'm going to take a stab in the dark and say that you like pie?”

“Man, do I ever!” He kept eating. “What's in this? Other than blackberries, I mean.” He savored another bite. “I can't figure out what it is, but I like it!”

“It's my own special recipe. Maybe I'll teach it to you.”

“Nah, I don't bake pies, I just eat 'em.”

“Then I guess you'll never know the secret ingredient.”

“Make me another pie like this one and I don't need to know it.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out, they had a clue to the curse all along.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

A WEEK LATER

 

Sam hung up after his weekly check-in with Dean, letting him know they were still trying, but no progress yet. He looked at Bobby and there was fear in his eyes.

“What?” Bobby asked. “You look like a spotted puppy staring down that Cruella DeVille bitch.”

“How would you expect Dean to sound after two weeks cooped up, no hunting, no bars, no women, nothing?”

“I wouldn't say no women, but Fia's smarter than that, so I'd guess he's stark raving mad.”

“Yeah, well that's _not_ how he sounds.”

“How does he sound, then?”

“He sounds happy.”

“Dean?”

“Yeah.”

“Happy?”

“Yeah.”

“We gotta get back there. Somethin's wrong.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

As Dean hung up the phone, he heard Fia yelling from her studio, where she had been working all morning. His blood turned to ice and he dropped the phone, sprinting for the door. A half-formed plea echoed through his brain. _Please! Not her, too!_

As he came out onto the porch, he could see her running across the meadow as if her life depended on it. He jumped from the top porch step, but before he even hit the ground, his brain recognized that she was yelling in excitement, not fear. He kept running anyway, needing to feel her safe in his arms so his heart could stop pounding.

She was grinning like a loon and waving something at him, but he ignored it and pulled her against him, practically burying her face in his chest. Confused but willing to go along, Fia put her arms around him and hugged him back for a second before leaning back and smiling at him.

“That was nice, but what's the occasion?”

“You scared the hell out of me, that's what! Don't ever do that again, you hear me?”

“I didn't mean to, I was just excited! You'll never guess what I found. Look!” And she shoved the picture under his nose.

He freed one hand to take it, but kept her securely pinned to his side with the other. It was a black and white print of the knife that had been used to curse him. He took a moment to admire the sweep of the blade edge and the sharp shadow it cast. She'd managed to capture the menace the thing exuded in real life. “Nice pic, but I don't think it calls for screaming bloody murder.”

Momentarily distracted from her mission, she smiled a little shyly. “You like it? I thought that knife had a really intense feel to it and I wanted to see what I could do with that. In fact, I'd just finished up with the shoot when you surprised me in the studio that first day.” Her gaze grew heated at the memory, but she pushed that aside. For now. “I didn't make any prints until today and I noticed something new. Look there.” She pointed to a part of the ornate scroll work just above the hilt. “There's a symbol hidden in that engraving.” Fia pulled a second print from behind the first. It was an enlargement. “Check _that_ out!” Her voice was triumphant.

Dean scrutinized the image. There was definitely something there. Finally! Now they had something to work with! He looked down at Fia's glowing face. “Lady, you are a freakin' genius!”

“Let's hit the books. You might be free of this curse sooner than you thought.” She turned quickly and headed back to the house, surprised by the pang that went through her as the words came out of her mouth.

He stood thoughtful for a moment, watching her move off, then trotted a little to catch up. Without speaking, he took her hand and they walked back together.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Many hours later, Fia sat back in frustration, looking around at the mess. Books stacked any which way, papers strewn everywhere, empty coffee mugs, a discarded plate with the stale end of a sandwich on it. Apparently, that was all they had to show for their hard work.

She looked over to the couch, where Dean was doggedly going through the last of the books that had any chance at all of containing the info they needed. He was so damn determined. And unfairly appealing, sitting there with a frown of concentration on his face, one foot tapping a restless beat. She wanted to smooth the frown away. Thoughts on how she might accomplish that started to fill her brain and she was on the verge of joining him on the couch when he suddenly sat up.

“Hot damn! I found it!” He jabbed at the page in front of him, reading aloud. “This symbol is most often seen as a subordinate element within the larger symbol of... uh-oh.” He looked pained.

“What? What is it?” Fia couldn't take the suspense.

“Hold on.” He read a little further. “Turns out the guy who's after me - and Sammy too, I guess - has a real beef with us. It's a dude called the Consort of the Mother.”

“Mother?”

“Eve, the Mother of All.”

“So why would this guy want to kill you two?”

  
“Well, uh, we kinda ganked her.”

“You _killed_ the MOTHER OF ALL?!!”

Dean held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “She was really only the mother of all the Purgatory monsters. Besides, it was her or the whole fuckin' world! We didn't have a choice!”

Fia frowned fiercely, but grudgingly let it go for the moment. “I guess it's not the top priority right now, but you _will_ be telling me that story later. What else does it say about the Consort?”

Relieved to be off the hook, at least temporarily, Dean studiously examined the page. “Uh, let's see. Here's something. 'The Consort of the Mother was known as one of the most powerful and bloodthirsty beings of the First World. It was said that the only way to kill him was to infect his heart with the pain he had caused.'”

“So how the fuck do we do that?” Fia's temper was still up about the death of the Mother, but Dean wisely chose to pretend he didn't notice.

“Okay, apparently you have to stab him in the heart with a bone from one of his victims. Easy enough. A little graveyard robbery and Bob's your uncle.” He kept reading. “Oh. Not so easy. The bone has to be anointed with the blood of one of the victim's loved ones. That could be tricky. Who knows how long it's been since this guy last surfaced. What if everyone's dead a hundred years ago?”

Fia sat down at the computer. “Does that book say anything about an M.O. for this guy, something I can try to track down? I can start on that while you call Bobby and Sam back. Might as well get them started on this thing, too.”

Twenty minutes later, she was deep into online research when Dean came back into the room, sliding his phone into his pocket. She looked up questioningly.

“Are they going to dig through Bobby's books for this Consort guy?”

Dean's face was puzzled. “No. For some reason, they got a wild hair up their collective ass and decided to come in from the cold for a while. They'll be here tomorrow afternoon.”

“Then let's get back to it.” She waved him to the laptop sitting on the coffee table. “Maybe between the two of us, we can come with something to go on before we go to bed.”

Deliberately not analyzing his reaction to the casual domesticity of her words, Dean sat down in front of the screen. He was giving it another hour's worth of work at most, then he was going to seduce her away from that computer, curse or no.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

They had lunch in the gazebo the next day. Fia realized she hadn't been out here since that first lunch with Dean. “You know, I think this was where it all started. You and me, I mean. This was where we actually started talking to each other.”

He looked around, remembering. “Yeah, I think you're right. Wasn't that long ago, but it's crazy how much has changed since then. I don't think I've ever been this relaxed in my life.” Dean leered at her. “Mostly because of all the seriously awesome sex, but there's other stuff, too.”

Fia chuckled. “I can't argue with your logic. I'm feeling pretty good myself.”

“I'll say!”

She groaned in mock dismay. “Ugh, what a terrible line! I'll thank you to try to come up with a little more wit and class in your crude compliments.”

“Yes, your highness.”

“Damn right.” She leaned over to him, sliding a hand up his denim-clad thigh. “Want to see how good I feel? Maybe it'll inspire you.”

Dean's breath hitched and he covered her hand with his own. “The answer to that question is always _yes_. But before all the feel-good melts my brain, I want to talk to you about something. Before the guys get here.”

Fia sat up, a little alarmed. “What's up?”

“I think it might be a good idea to keep this thing between us...well, between _us_ for a while. It seems like it would be simpler that way, at least until we know where this is going.”

The alarm bloomed into panic as Fia stared at him. _He's changing the rules! Damn it._ He was already too deep into her life as it was, she couldn't let it go any further. Very carefully, she responded in a neutral voice. “We know where this is going, Dean. Nowhere. Temporary fun, remember?”

He made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “I remember, believe me. And I don't even know what I have in mind, really. I just know that I want to see you again when this is over.”

“But is it ever really over? When are you not in danger? Is there ever a time when some monster isn't trying to kill you?

Dean's face fell. “You're right, I know that. But I figure this place is pretty safe, so maybe we spend time together here.”

Her heart cracked a little, looking at the hope in his eyes, but she had to hold firm, for both their sakes. “I want to make something clear. You and Sam and Bobby are welcome to come visit anytime you're in the neighborhood. I'd love to see you. But once you leave, that has to be the end of this. I won't shut myself up here, waiting for you to come back.”

“Like that would be different from the way you're shut up here now?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“C'mon! I've been here two weeks and I'm pretty sure you haven't had contact with anyone but me since I got here!”

“That's not true!” She was defensive. “I have internet friends! And I make it a point to talk to the clerks when I go into town every week!”

“Shit Fia, _I_ have deeper relationships than that! Me!!”

Her face closed down. “I'm done talking about this.”

“No, you're not!” Exasperated, he put a hand on her arm, but quickly removed it when she looked up at him, a dangerous glint in her eye.

“Yes. I. Am.” Her voice might as well have been a stone wall built up between them, cold and immovable. Knowing there was no way past it, Dean jumped to his feet. “Son of a bitch! You are the most frustrating woman I have ever met! And I've met plenty!” He stomped out of the gazebo.

Fia's eyes were sad as she watched him leave, but a touch of amusement glowed in them as she noticed that he stomped all the way across the meadow, then all the way up the porch stairs, and slammed the door when he went into the house. Apparently, she'd really pissed him off. She didn't enjoy that thought, but it might have been worth it to watch his delightfully bowlegged progress. She just hoped they'd be able to repair the damage between them and get back to the way things had been, for as long as it lasted.

Slamming the back door felt so good that Dean stomped all the way to the front door and slammed it on his way out. He finally came to a stop at the bottom of the front porch steps. Leaning over with his hands on his knees, he took a deep breath and tried to calm down. It didn't work. He threw his hands in the air. “Done talking! She's done talking! Well, fucking good for her! Maybe I have a couple more things to say, did ya ever think of that, Miss High and Mighty?” He flung himself back against the trunk of a nearby tree, glaring at the house as if it were Fia's face. “She's ballsy, I'll give her that!” _One of the best things about her._ Damn it, where had that thought come from? Now was not the time for being honest with himself, he was furious!

But he couldn't deny that Fia had a certain kind of guts, a confidence in herself and an awareness of her own worth, that he found irresistible and increasingly addictive. She respected herself in a way that he wasn't used to seeing and he was fascinated. She never tried to deny her flaws or failures, but it was like she lived without being ashamed of them. Dean wondered what that was like.

Abruptly, he came to an aggravating realization. If he really valued her independence and her self-possession, then he _had_ to recognize her right to decide what she did or didn't want in her life. That included him. Dean sighed in resignation. _I guess if this is all I can have of her, I'll take it._ He pushed himself off the tree and only then looked up to realize he'd been leaning on Oak Friend. Feeling more than a little silly, but doing it anyway, he laid a hand on the bark. _Thanks, buddy._

He turned and climbed to the porch, pausing at the door to consider if he should go try to patch things up with Fia. _Nope, still too mad._ Instead, he headed for the attic game room. A nice, bloody shoot-em-up video game at full volume would do him a world of good right about now.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Climbing the stairs from the beach, Fia felt both better and worse about the argument with Dean. Sitting with her feet in the sand, being lulled by surf and wind, had calmed some of the turmoil inside her. At the same time, it cleared her head enough to make her realize that she'd been kind of harsh. No, that was too nice. What she had been was cold, distant, and maybe a little cruel. It had come out of her own fear, but he deserved better than to have the door slammed in his face like that.

One thing that hadn't changed was her decision not to open herself up to more pain than she was in for already. The longer Dean stayed here, the more tangled up she was going to get. Despite that, Fia discovered a half-unconscious hope, buried deep down, that the curse wouldn't end too quickly. _If I could just have him for another week._ She figured a week would leave her heart bleeding on the floor when they said goodbye, but she would survive it. Any longer than that and she wasn't so sure.

She was determined to do what she could to restore some kind of harmony between them, but only if it meant not backing down from her decision to keep things temporary. As for what she would say if Dean insisted on digging into why she was alone so much, Fia honestly didn't know. It wasn't that she didn't trust him. She knew that even in a casual affair, Dean was the kind of guy who would jump in front of a bus to save you. It was just that she didn't know how to describe the abyss that she had walked through five years ago, even to herself.

Sighing, she climbed the back porch and went into the great room, alert for Dean's presence, but there was no trace of him. Smothering a flicker of anxiety, she crossed the room and there, at the bottom of the stairs, she heard something. It sounded like gunfire and explosions coming from upstairs, but the only tv on the second floor was in her room. _Wait a minute, that's Call of Duty!_ Holy hell, he was in the fucking attic! The surround sound had to be at full blast. His ears must be bleeding.

Deciding to let him continue working off his temper before she tried to apologize, Fia started pulling ingredients out of the fridge. Bobby and Sam were supposed to be here in a couple hours. She might as well make the salad now, Dean could do the burgers later.

It wasn't long before the faint noise stopped and Dean came tromping down the stairs. Miracle of miracles, he had a smile on his face.

“Damn, that was fun!”

“I see you've discovered the joys of online gaming.”

“How have I not been playing that game? It's a blast! I totally owned a bunch of teenagers sitting alone in their bedrooms, talking like they were big shit.” The smile got bigger. “I think I made one of 'em cry.”

“Feel better now?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah. But also sorry for the way I talked to you. I didn't handle the situation with my usual tact and grace.”

Dean frowned. “You. Tact. I don't see the connection.” His eyes teased her.

He was right and Fia had to laugh. “Oh, fuck off!”

“Ah, there it is, I see the tact now.”

“ _Anyway,_ I'm really sorry for shutting you down so harshly. We may not be in this for the long haul,” Dean raised his eyebrows at that, but maintained his silence, “but I won't pretend that it's nothing more than a physical relationship. I owe you more respect than I showed you this afternoon. It won't happen again.”

He ducked his head. “Hey, I was outta line, too. You get to run your own life. And you don't have to talk about anything you don't want to. I'll accept your apology if you accept mine.”

Fia's face lit up with relief. “Done!” She stepped close and kissed him to seal the deal.

“Wow, that went way better than I thought. I half expected you to ask me to leave again.”

“Oh, I'm saving that for a truly heinous crime, like tearing a page out of one of my books. Steer clear of that and you're probably safe.” Her voice was playful.

Dean slipped his arms around her and flashed her a roguish grin. “So does that mean I can get away with luring you upstairs for a round of slap and tickle before company shows up?”

“It most definitely means that.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner with the guys.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

By the time Dean's phone rang two hours later, they were back downstairs, hurriedly finishing the food prep for dinner. Fia continued slicing tomatoes while Dean answered.

“Hey Bobby. How close are ya? The grill's heatin'.” He listened for a minute, then turned to Fia. “He says they're turning off 101 now. How long you figure?”

She considered. “Ten, fifteen minutes maybe. Tell him I'll meet them at the gate and let them in.”

Dean relayed the message and hung up while she covered the veggies and put them in the fridge. “You want me to walk out there with you?”

Fia shook her head. “No need. Besides, I left the onions for you to cut.”

“Gee, thanks. Uh, before you go, are we on the same page about maybe not telling Sam and Bobby we're sleeping together?” Her eyes widened a little at the echo of their earlier quarrel, and he hastened to continue. “I gotta be honest, I'm a little afraid of what Bobby'll say. Seems pretty clear that he's taken you under his wing and I'm bettin' he'd go all Mama Bear if he thought I was disrespecting you.”

“Aw, I like Bobby, too!” Fia was touched.

“Not really the point I was making.”

“I know. And yes, if it'll make you feel better, we can keep it discreet. In fact, maybe we shouldn't have sex until they leave.” She looked at him slyly.

Dean gasped in mock horror. “In that case, don't bother opening the gate. We'll holler at 'em from the trees and then come back here and go to bed.”

“You know, I'm really starting to get an idea of where your priorities are. And I'm in total agreement with them.” Fia pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “But I really do want to see Bobby and Sam, so we'll just have to figure something else out. There's always the studio again.”

“Or the beach.

“Or the gazebo at midnight.”

“You know, having them here might not be so bad after all.” He grinned and pulled Fia in for another kiss before turning back to the cutting board. “Now go get 'em, I'm starving!”

The clouds looked a little threatening, so Fia grabbed her rain jacket on the way out the front door. Nodding a greeting to Oak Friend, she crunched down the drive. It felt good to walk alone in the woods again. When she was with Dean, all she wanted was more of him. But she needed this, too, needed to be able to give her full attention to the life that surrounded her, to feel herself as an integral part of that life.

By the time she reached the gate, Fia was feeling refreshed and grounded. She leaned against the camouflaged gate and watched the clouds whisk across the sky with the rising wind. The first fat drops had just begun to plunk down when two cars came slowly down the road through the dusk.

Punching the button on the remote in her hand, she waved them down, admiring the sleek black shape of the Impala. As the gate swung open, the rain was already starting to come down in sheets. Sam leaned across and pushed open the passenger door. “Get in!”

Fia lost no time in accepting the invite. Pushing back her hood, she swiveled to look at the car behind them, waved at Bobby, then turned to face front. “Hey Sam, it's good to see you!”

“Likewise, Fia. How've things been here? Dean driving you crazy?” He turned onto the gravel drive, slowing once Bobby's car came through so that Fia could point the remote out the window and close the gate.

“Have you met Dean? Of course he's driving me crazy.” _In more ways than one._ Pushing that thought away, she glanced around the interior of the car. “Man, this is a nice car! How did I not notice it before?”

“Could be because we were running for our lives. Just a guess though.” Sam grinned sideways at her.

“I guess maybe that could be it.” Fia smiled back. “So it's an Impala, right? What year?”

“'67.”

“Nice. Very nearly the perfect muscle car.”

Sam was caught off guard. “Nearly? What do you mean?”

“Let's be honest, nothing beats a black '69 Camero. Sexiest car ever made!”

Sam could hardly contain his glee at her answer. “Remember you said that, okay?”

“Uh, sure, whatever you say.”

They pulled up in front of the house, Bobby close behind, and made a hopeless dash for the front porch. But a September rain on the Oregon coast is not to be denied and they were soaked before they got to the door.

“They're here!” Fia called into the great room as they shed their wet jackets.

Dean poked his head out into the foyer with a big-ass grin on his face. “Guys!” He strode across to Sam and grabbed him in a giant hug, before turning and giving Bobby the same treatment. “I missed ya!”

Sam and Bobby exchanged worried looks, but waited to see how the situation developed.

“Yeah, we missed you, too, I guess.” Despite his best effort, Bobby's voice was a little dubious as they followed Dean into the other room. “How's the arm, by the way?”

Dean grimaced, unconsciously flexing his bandaged arm. “No worse, but no better either. Fuckin' thing's still raw, but at least I'm not dripping blood.” He shook his head, ready to talk about something else. “You want a beer or something? I just put the burgers on the grill, so we can eat soon. Guess we're eating inside, though.” He nodded toward the rainstorm outside the windows, then looked around to be sure Fia was out of earshot. Turning to Sam, he lowered his voice. “So, how's my Baby? You didn't add anything _digital_ , did you?”

 

With a look of long-suffering patience, Sam answered. “No, Dean, I didn't change anything on the Impala, your baby's fine. Oh! That reminds me.” He looked around and caught Fia's eye when she emerged from the fridge with a large bowl in her hands. “Fia, come over here and tell Dean what you told me about the car.”

“What?” She set the bowl down and peeled back the plastic wrap. “I just said the Impala was nearly the perfect muscle car...”

Dean's voice was puzzled as he echoed her under his breath. “Nearly?”

“...but that there's nothing sexier than a black '69 Camero.”

“What?!! You _have_ to be joking!” He was outraged, and Sam busted out laughing. Even Bobby snickered.

“I'm dead serious.” Her words were belied by the amused expression that had appeared on her face at his reaction.

“The Camero's overrated and obvious. The Impala is an understated classic!”

“You're free to hold that opinion, incorrect as it may be.” Why, oh why was it so much fun to push his buttons?

He made a sound of inarticulate exasperation, but Fia could see in his eyes that he was playing along with the joke. Mostly playing anyway.

Dean glanced out to the back porch, where the smoking grill was protected from the watery onslaught. “I don't have time to set you straight now, I gotta turn the burgers.” He waved the spatula grumpily in her direction on his way to the door. “But I _will_ convert you to Team Impala.”

She simpered at him as he left. “You can try.” Turning back, she waved Sam and Bobby into chairs at the table. “So, really now, beer anyone?”

“Me!” Forever the good student, Sam raised his hand.

“I'll take one too, thanks, Fia.” Bobby settled into his chair. “Good to see you, kid! Dean driving you up the walls yet?”

Fia had to laugh. “Sam asked me almost the same thing!” She hoped the laughter effectively masked the flush of heat that went through her at the sudden vivid recollection of when Dean had done just that. “I'm getting used to him.” She turned to Sam. “I thought the car was yours, but now I'm guessing it's Dean's? Well-played, Sam, I walked right into that.” She tipped her glass to him in respect before she drank.

“Hey, you didn't do so bad yourself. You hassled him like a pro.”

“Or like a member of the family.” Bobby tipped his own bottle to her.

“Bobby, you say the sweetest things!” Fia felt honored by his words and it showed on her face.

The door opened and Dean entered in a rush of cool air. “Okay! Burgers'll be ready in a couple of minutes. Hope you guys are hungry.” Crossing to the kitchen, he picked up his glass and came to sit at the table with them. “So what are we talking about?”

“How much fun it is to yank your chain.” Sam cheerfully punched Dean's arm.

Fia spluttered a little into her drink. Clearing her throat, she set down her glass and opened up a large book lying on the table. Pulling out the prints she had made of the cursed knife, she looked at Sam. “Thought you might like to see these.”

“Yeah! I can't believe we had the answer this whole time.” He bent over the images, examining them curiously.

Turning to Bobby, Fia wasn't surprised to find that he'd snagged the book and started reading. “I don't know if Dean gave you all the details, but we're really close to figuring this thing out.”

Bobby looked up, nodding. “The big bad who cursed Dean is Eve's boyfriend. And guess what, the weapon that'll kill him is gonna be damned hard to come by. Big surprise, that.”

Dean sat up in his chair. “We're pretty sure the last time this guy surfaced was about 80 years ago. It's a long shot, but could be a relative of one of his victims is still alive. We just have to find them.”

“Well _that_ should be a piece of cake.” Sarcasm was one of Bobby's superpowers.

“Shit, Bobby, I don't know what else to try! I can't stay _here_ the rest of my life!” Dean's voice was brimming with frustration.

Fia stood up. “Can we finish talking about this over dinner? Dean, I bet the burgers are done.” She moved into the kitchen to finish bringing the food out.

Dean's eyes followed her, pensive. “Yeah, I'll go get 'em.” He rose and, grabbing a plate from the counter, went out to unload the barbeque.

While he was gone, Bobby reached over and picked up Dean's glass. He took a sip and grimaced.

“What?” Sam whispered.

“Iced tea. And not the Long Island kind,” Bobby added significantly. Sam's mouth tightened with worry.

Over dinner, no matter how much they talked about it, they kept coming to the same conclusion. The only way they knew to end the curse was to end the curse-maker. And that was going to take a weapon that might or might not exist.

Throughout the discussion, Dean seemed fairly normal to Sam, except that he was relaxed and cheerful in spite of the frustrating truths they were facing. His behavior wasn't suspicious enough to warrant confronting him, but enough to make Sam resolve to secretly test for signs of possession and hex bags the first chance he got.

Dean pushed his plate away and took a sip of iced tea before opening a wooden box sitting on a nearby shelf. He took out a colorful glass pipe and a short silver cylinder 2” across. Deliberately not looking at Sam's goggly eyes and gaping mouth, he opened a small tupperware container and put a chunk of pungent marijuana into the cylinder, using the teeth in the lid to grind the herb down before loading a healthy amount into the pipe.

Sam came out of his daze. “Dean!”

Dean finally looked over at him with a little smile. “Yeah, I do this now. This is cool.” He offered the pipe and lighter to Fia.

Laughing, she waved it back to him. “I think the Doctor Who reference earned you the green hit. Go ahead. Just please don't start wearing a fez, ok?”

“You know I'd make a fez look _hot_!” Grinning hugely at her, he lit up, inhaled deeply, and handed the pipe over to her. Bobby's eyebrows rose as he watched them, but he managed to wipe the surprise from his face and turn toward Sam before anyone noticed.

Stunned by the exhibition of unabashed geekery, added to the already staggering sight of Dean smoking pot, Sam looked at Bobby to see how he was reacting. He was taken aback to realize that Bobby was laughing at him.

“Ha! College boy shocked by weed? Bullshit.” Bobby turned to Fia. “Here, pass that over.”

If possible, Sam's eyes got bigger as Bobby took a pull from the pipe. “It's not the pot, it's you two! I smoked a little in college,” he took the pipe from Bobby's hand and inhaled, continuing his sentence with minimal loss of smoke from his lungs, “but I quit when Dean came back because I figured he would throw the mother of all hissy fits.” He passed the pipe back to Dean, taking the opportunity to blow smoke in his older brother's face. “I like it, but not enough for _that_ drama. And Bobby, I figured anything but whiskey might kill you.”

Dean's nose wrinkled, but he took the pipe and reloaded it. Fia laughed, turning to Bobby. “I'm guessing they didn't know that you smoke too? Been at it long?” Accepting the pipe Dean offered, she took an impressive lungful.

“Well, I was doing a tour in Vietnam...” Bobby started.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sam interrupted. “You never said anything about serving in 'Nam!”

Bobby took a massive hit before answering. “Idjit, I never said I served, now did I?” He turned back to Fia. “It was a bird watching tour a couple years ago. I had a good friend, Jerry Nguyen, and somehow he found me at my hotel in Ha Noi. Said his hometown was bein' terrorized by a Ngư tinh, a Vietnamese demon fish. Trick is, you gotta catch 'em when they're in their human form, otherwise they're too damned big. Jerry found that out the hard way, but the night before he died, he smoked me out. Helluva guy, Jerry. I been puffing ever since.”

“So you've both smoked for years and never thought to tell me about it? Damn, you must think I'm a judgmental bastard if you didn't think you could even talk to me.”

Sam shrugged. “To be fair, Dean, you _are_ a judgmental bastard, so it was an understandable mistake.” He shot a brash grin in Dean's direction. “You know, I never could figure out why you fell for that whole Nancy Reagan, Just Say No To Drugs routine. It was so _not you_. Except for that, it's been your life's mission to never say no to anything.”

“Ain't _that_ the truth!” Bobby snorted a laugh, while taking note of the flash of silent communication between Fia and Dean that boiled down to _He doesn't know about Flagstaff?_ answered with _No, and he never will_. Covering his amazement at learning Dean had shared that particular gem of a story, Bobby joked, “Dean's got less self control than a dog with an open jar of peanut butter.”

Waving his hand, Dean broke in. “Alright, alright! I think that's enough playing 'Bust Dean's Balls', don't you?” He boldly ignored the snicker that came from Fia. “If you both shut up, I'll bring out the peach pie I baked this morning.”

Bobby and Sam spoke over each other.

“Well aren't you Mr Domestic?”

“No way! You baked a ...”

“Hey! I'm pretty sure I said SHUT UP before I said pie. So what's it gonna be?” Silence. “I can't hear you, and that's a good thing. Be right back.”

Bobby swiveled and eyed Fia. “So he's makin' _pies_ now?”

She stared right back at him. “Listen, Bobby, I made one pie and then never heard the end of it. I can only take so much pestering, so I told him if he wanted pie, he could damn well learn to make his own. I have to hand it to him, he picked it up quick, and now he won't let me make them anymore. He says his are better.” Fia grimaced. “The hell of it is, he's right.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Late that night, Sam knocked quietly on Bobby's door.

“Hey, I saw you had your light on.” Sam sat on the bed and looked worriedly at his friend. “Listen, Bobby, I checked Dean out tonight, no reaction to salt, silver, or holy water. I'll have to check his room tomorrow when he's not there, but I looked over the rest of the house and couldn't find a single hex bag. Fia's got a massive collection of magical ingredients and spell books, but I didn't see anything that looked like black magic.”

“I ain't surprised.”

“But Dean is acting so weird! If it's not a hex, then what?

“Really, Sam, you got no other theories?”

“I don't know, could she be a succubus? Do succubi even exist?”

“Yeah, they exist, but Fia ain't one of 'em. Otherwise Dean'd be nothing but a sack of bones right now, literally.”

“So she's not a succubus and not hexing him. But can we trust her?”

“I'd stake my life on it. By the way, you can go check Dean's room now, you won't find a hex bag there either.”

“No way he doesn't catch me, Bobby. You know he wakes up when someone even thinks about dropping a hat.”

“Yeah, well, that ain't a problem. Dollars to donuts, that boy ain't sleepin' in his own bed.” Finally, Bobby saw comprehension dawn on Sam's face. “You know, for a smart kid, you can be kinda slow on the uptake.”

“Wait, I thought you said Fia was smarter than that.”

“I guess I got that wrong, now didn't I?”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually the first scene I wrote in this 'verse. The whole idea just seemed so funny to me, so I went with it, and lo, a full-length fic was born.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can we talk?

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

After Dean cooked a gigantic breakfast the next morning, Fia suggested that the guys take the day off “for once in your damn lives.”

“Listen, we know who this bastard is and we know how to kill him. Can't you just wait a day to head out?” She sat forward, intent. “You know what my grandma used to say about this place? 'Every army needs R&R and hunters are no different.' That's you two. I really want to uphold the tradition.” Fia waved a hand at the windows, where yesterday's rain had left everything fresh and lovely in the morning sun. “Look, the weather even cleared up. I want you all to have a lazy day in the sun before you go back out into the world. I'll even volunteer to keep searching online for victims' relatives if it means one of you takes a nap in the hammock this afternoon.”

Bobby raised his coffee cup in her direction. “All hail the wisdom of women!” Drinking off the last of it, he set the cup down and hoisted himself out of his chair. “I for one am gonna take you up on your generous offer, and I ain't waitin' 'til this afternoon to hit that hammock.” He winked at Fia. “Thanks, kid.” He headed for the door, already yawning.

“Don't forget to turn the hammock over so the dry side is up. Oh, and wait a sec!” Fia jumped up and went to her smoke box, pulling out a joint. She handed it over with a lighter. “Take this.”

“Just what the doctor ordered, thanks.” Bobby pocketed the gift and glanced at the boys before heading out the door. “See what I mean about the wisdom of women?”

Sitting back down with her own pipe, Fia's eyes scanned the jumbled chaos of the kitchen counters. Dean was a good cook, but he was not a tidy one. She pinned him with a look, nodding her head toward the mess. “My kitchen is in shambles. You're going to take care of that, aren't you?”

Reluctantly, he nodded. “That was the rule, right? I clean up after myself.”

Fia flashed him a bright smile. “Thanks, I appreciate it. Maybe next time I'll give you a hand with it.”

Sam sat forward. “Hey Fia, I was wondering what the surf is like in that little cove?”

“I wouldn't call it gnarly, but there's usually enough surf for a boogie board. What kind of swimmer are you?”

“I was actually a lifeguard for a while, before my junior year.”

Dean's face lit up. “You? A lifeguard? With the whistle and the shorts? And high chair?!” He was practically giddy with all the fun he was gonna make of Sam.

“Shut up, Dean.” Sam turned back to Fia. “Yeah, I swim pretty well, so I got a summer gig in Santa Barbara. Me and a buddy shared a house. Man, we had fun!”

“Did you ever ocean swim when you were at Stanford?”

“Sure, but the water's cold as hell in the Bay Area, so not much.”

“It's colder here. I don't suppose you own a wetsuit?”

Sam laughed a little. “Uh, no. Not a lot of call for it these days.”

“Well, if you want to get out there, there's a couple of suits hanging in the shed, along with some boards.” Fia squinted, sizing him up. “Your wrists and ankles will be hanging out, but there's a suit there that I think the rest of you might fit into. String bean.” She added the last with a grin.

“Ha ha, you sound like Dean.” Sam grinned back. “But thanks, I'll check it out later.”

“There's a tide chart on the table next to the back door. If you feel like it, you're welcome to roll yourself a joint to take with you.” She pushed back her chair, conscientiously  glancing at both brothers as she rose, taking care not to linger on Dean . “Alright, I'm leaving you guys to your own devices. I'll be in the library.” Taking her coffee and pipe with her, Fia left the room.

Dean glanced around at the mess in the kitchen and decided the situation called for temporary retreat and regroup. “Let's take our coffee out on the porch.”

As they settled onto the padded bench, Sam smirked at his older brother. “You know, you guys can quit pretending nothing's going on. I mean, Fia does a good job of hiding it, but I know you two hooked up.” He didn't mention Bobby's part in his enlightenment, but now that he knew, it seemed pretty obvious.

While Sam was talking, the sleek grey shape of Liath appeared, curling against Dean's leg before jumping up to sit next to him on the bench. Dean automatically put a hand out to pet him. “And? What's your point?”

Sam closed his gaping mouth with a snap. “My point is who the hell _are_ you and what have you done with Dean?”

“Dude, what are you talking about?!”

Incensed, Sam flung his arm out, waving a hand at the cat. “Cats now, Dean?! And you smoke pot and you aren't a raging alcoholic and you watch Doctor Who and I haven't heard you mention witches once. For crissakes, man, you're fucking  _mellow!_ Since when did you turn into the Big Lebowski?!”

“Hey, I thought you'd be happy about all that stuff. It's all good, right? I mean, healthier, isn't it?” Dean glanced down at Liath and smiled, ruffling his fur. “As for this guy, turns out I'm not allergic to him. And he likes me. Watch this.” He scratched the cat behind one ear, generating a deep and surprisingly loud purr of approval. Liath turned his head into Dean's hand, rumbling contentedly.

There was lingering bewilderment on Sam's face. “Yeah, all of those are good things. Even the cat, I guess. But Dean, you gotta admit, it's a lot of changes all at once. If it was me, you'd be sure I was possessed or something.”

“But you know I'm not possessed, 'cause you checked me last night.” Sam shot him a guilty glance. “Yeah, I knew. But I passed every one, didn't I, Sam? Salt, silver, holy water, hex bags. I'm clean, man.”

“So then what the hell is going on? Could Fia still be working mojo on you somehow? I thought you were paranoid to suspect her when we brought you here, but the whole thing is starting to seem weirdly coincidental.”

“Oh, she's got the mojo alright, but not the kind you're talkin' about. And that's all I'm gonna say about that.”

Momentarily distracted from his point, Sam leaned in and lowered his voice. “Sidebar - I gotta know, where's the anti-possession tattoo?”

Dean glanced at the doorway and spoke in a hushed tone. “On her left hip. And it's tiny, like the size of a quarter. Cutest damn thing you ever saw!” He grinned, shaking his head, then his expression sobered. “Seriously, Sam, she's not working any kind of actual magic on me. I'm no rookie and I _looked_ for it. I expected it, believe me. It just wasn't there.”

“So what? It's nothing more than the love of a good woman?” Sam's smile flashed, but his eyes were sincere.

“Whoa, no one said anything about love! Look, I don't want to analyze it to death. Let's just say me and Fia are having fun together and I'm feeling good. Can't we just leave it at that?”

Dean's voice held just the tiniest hint of a plea, but Sam caught it. “Yeah, we can leave it at that. If that's all it is, I'm glad for you. Fia seems like an amazing woman.”

“Yet you suspected her of putting a whammy on me.”

“Hey, I didn't want to think it! I really liked her when we met, and Bobby already trusts her completely. The new you was just too bizarro to let slide, you know?”

“Yeah, I know, believe me. But all I want right now is to enjoy this insane thing normal people call “happy” for as long as it lasts. Okay?”

“I think I can get behind that.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Fia was still at the computer when Bobby appeared, looking as refreshed and relaxed as she'd seen him in their short but vivid acquaintance.

“How was your nap?”

“It was great, Fia. Thanks again for makin' us take a break. Those two boys will keep going 'til they drop and then some. But these old bones appreciate a day off.”

“I'm glad you took me up on it. I already told Dean this, but from now on, if you need to get away for a while, give me a call and you can come visit.”

“You know, Fia, you remind me of my wife a little. She was the most sensible woman I ever met, honest, with a generous heart, like you. I'd like to think that if we'd had a daughter, she would have grown up a lot like you.”

Tears sprang to Fia's eyes and she got up from the desk to give him an awkwardly accepted hug. “You don't know how much it means for me to hear you say that, Bobby. I kind of feel the same way. It seemed like you and Sam were family the day we met.”

Bobby raised his eyebrows. “And Dean?”

“Ah, Dean. I don't even know what to think about Dean.”

“Seems like you two got pretty close, pretty fast.”

“The first couple of days, I wanted to throttle him. A lot. But then he mostly stopped being a self-centered ass and we started to get to know each other. I swear, I wasn't going to get involved with him.”

“So what happened?”

She looked at him ruefully. “Marvin Gaye is what happened. Like a match to gasoline.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, ol' Marvin works every time.”

“I'm not stupid, I know what kind of life Dean leads and what kind of man he is. It's that second one that's getting me into trouble. I tell you, Bobby, I don't know what's going to happen between us, but all the possibilities seem scary.”

“Listen to me, kid. You got a good head on your shoulders and - appearances to the contrary - so does Dean. The best thing you can do is be honest. With him, sure, but with yourself first. Decide what you really want to do, and then do that thing.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It ain't simple, but I got faith you'll do alright.”

“I have to admit, I've been kind of worried about what happens to our friendship if this thing with Dean ends badly. I don't want to risk losing you and Sam.”

“Well I can't speak for Sam, but whatever happens with Dean, sweetie, you're stuck with me.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

By the time Fia pushed away from the keyboard and went into the kitchen to scrounge up something for lunch, Dean had managed to restore order to the kitchen. In fact, as she looked around, she realized it was pretty damn immaculate. Smiling to herself, she set about reheating a left over hamburger.

She was just sitting down to eat when Sam came in the back door, damp hair falling into his eyes and a towel across his shoulders.

“Oh, hey Fia!” He pulled out a chair and turned it around backward to straddle it. “It was really great being out on the water again! Thanks for the loan of the suit and board. My toes about froze off, but most of me stayed nice and warm.”

“So are you glad you took the day off?”

“Yeah, I am. This place is pretty amazing. I wish we could spend more time here.”

Fia smiled. “The other two already know this, but whenever you're in the area or you want to recharge a little, you can come here for a visit. Just call first, okay?”

“You got it, thanks! Motel rooms all look the same after a while. It's nice to have another option. So how's the research going?”

“Slower than I'd hoped. You know, I wonder if the Consort also cursed the families of the people he killed. It seems like something he would do, if the curse on you two is any indication. And it would explain why so many of the victims' families seem to have died out.”

“You want me to help you this afternoon? It's not like I have any plans.”

“Which was part of the point of having the day off, right? So no, thank you, I don't mind digging around on my own for a while longer. Enjoy the rest of the day. You'll be back in the thick of things soon enough, I suspect.”

“Alright, you talked me into it. But let me know when I can help.” He glanced at her half-finished burger. “Any more of those left? I'm starving! And maybe some of that spinach salad from last night?”

She waved a hand at the refrigerator. “Yeah, plenty of leftovers, help yourself.”

As Sam fixed himself a plate, Fia could see that he kept glancing at her, then away, then back again. Finally, she put down the last of her burger in exasperation.

“What? What is it? Do you need to talk to me about something? Because you're making me nervous!”

“Huh? Oh yeah, I'm sorry, Fia. I do want to talk to you, but I don't want to offend you or butt in where I don't belong. I'm trying to figure out where to start.” He sat down at the table with his lunch.

“I may have a temper, but I'm not that easily offended. Out with it.”

“Okay then.” He took a deep breath, avoiding her eyes. “I know about you and Dean, and I want to make sure you know what you're getting into. He's my brother and I love him. But he's an emotional wreck, we all are, and I really don't want to see you get hurt.” Sam glanced sideways at her, waiting for an explosion. But Fia didn't look angry, she looked sad as she stared out the window.

“What in the world makes you think that I'm not an emotional wreck, too?” Her voice was quiet and Sam felt a pang of sympathy at the pain it held. “I could just as easily hurt Dean as he can hurt me.” She looked up at him and the pain in her eyes dwarfed what he had heard in her voice. “But here we are, for however long it lasts, and I can't make myself give him up any sooner than I have to. No more than I could resist getting involved in the first place.” Fia shook her head sadly. “Believe me, Sam, I tried.”

He was taken aback and wanting to comfort her somehow, covered her hand with his own. “Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit a raw nerve.”

Fia turned her hand over and clasped Sam's. “No, don't worry.” Laughing softly at herself, she wiped at her suddenly teary eyes with her free hand. “I don't know where that came from. I guess you surprised it out of me. It's good to know you care, Sammy.”

He noticed her use of his nickname, but given how fragile she seemed, Sam let it pass. “I do care. And if Dean acts like a jerk, he'll have to answer to me!” He frowned threateningly, trying to make her laugh. It almost worked. Tears gone for the moment, Fia smiled gently at his antics.

At that moment, Dean came down the stairs, his eyes drawn immediately to their joined hands. “Am I interrupting somethin'?” While his tone was offhand, the smile was just the tiniest bit forced.

Casually releasing Sam's hand, Fia stood and gathered her lunch dishes. “Nope. Just talking about you.”

“Me, huh? Good stuff, I hope.” Dean's puzzlement was obvious as he glanced from Fia to his brother and back again.

“It was _you_ , dude. How good could it be?” With a mischievous look, Sam dug into his salad.

“Hey!”

“He does have a point.” Fia couldn't resist joining in.

“You know, I didn't come down here to be insulted. I came to see you if two want to watch a movie with me and Bobby. He's got “Hang 'Em High” cued up on the home theater upstairs. Popcorn's already in the nuker.”

“Sounds like fun.” Sam gestured toward the food in front of him, looking at Fia. “Okay if I take that upstairs?”

“Sure, just don't leave any dishes laying around. That's how you get ants.”

Sam picked up the plate and started for the door. “You coming, Fia?”

“Another time. I think Dean and I are going to go for a walk.”

“We are?” Dean glanced at Sam, then back at her.

“I'd like to, yes.” Her gaze was unwavering.

“But... Clint!” He was a puppy pleading for a treat. “And popcorn!”

“Hey, if you want to pick Clint Eastwood on the screen over me on the beach, you're free to do that.”

Sam snorted with laughter, but quickly sobered when Dean sent him a quelling look. Fixing a neutral expression on his face, Sam continued to the door, but there was mirth in his voice as he left the room. “Have a nice walk!”

Turning back to Fia, Dean raised an eyebrow at her. “What's up?”

“Nothing really. Just that talking with Sam made me realize that we're on track to end this thing pretty soon. And that what I really want to do is to spend as much time alone with you as I can, while I can. No offense to the guys, I love them. But they'll be my friends for years. You'll only be my lover for a few more days.” Fia's smile was vulnerable. “I have to prioritize.”

His heart twisted a little at the reference to her determination to end their relationship. _Why does she always have to remind me?_ Dean kept his thoughts hidden, though, taking her in his arms. “Then we'll go for a walk on the beach.”

Sliding her arms around him, Fia pressed her face to his shoulder, hugging him hard. “Thank you.” Raising her mouth to his, she gave herself permission, just this once, to kiss him with an open and unguarded heart. He didn't understand what had changed, but the power of it staggered Dean.

Pulling back, Fia gazed up at him with heat in her eyes. “Maybe we'll do more than just walk, hm?”

Dean's face lit up. “Screw Eastwood! Let's go!”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The wind had picked up since morning and was filling the air with sand and spray when they reached the bottom of the beach stairs.

Dean looked around in dismay. “Looks like no sex on the beach today.”

“It always sounds better than it is anyway. Sand can get very uncomfortable, very quickly. I have another option, though.” Taking his hand, Fia led him along the dry fringe until they reached a formation of boulders that created a tiny protected spot he hadn't noticed before, out of the full force of wind. Ducking into the natural shelter, she perched on a large rock, gesturing Dean to a seat beside her.

Pulling a pipe out of her pocket and lighting it with practiced defense against the extreme drafts, Fia filled her lungs and stared out at the glittering blue-grey water. Offering the pipe to Dean, she let the smoke slowly stream out of her mouth, trying to let her turmoil go with it.

She surreptitiously watched him smoke, thinking how much he'd opened up since she'd known him. “Did you ever think you would hook up with a real, live, pot-smoking tree hugger?”

Dean exhaled, shooting her an amused look. “No, I really didn't. But I'm an equal opportunity kinda guy. If there's a mutual attraction, nothin' else matters much.”

“I thought you'd be all judgmental about the way I live my life, the things I believe.”

“Don't get me wrong, woo-woo people generally drive me nuts, all that soft and fluffy energy crap gets on my last nerve. But that's not you.”

“Hey, I can be soft!”

“No, I mean when you talk about stuff like having trees as friends, stuff that sounds fucking crazy comin' out of my mouth, it just seems so matter of fact, so real to you, that I had to take it seriously.” Laughter showed in his eyes. “I mean, eventually. Eventually, I took it seriously.”

Fia shook her head in bemusement. “Here I was afraid that you would make snap judgments about me and it turns out that's what I was doing to you.”

“Me? How?”

“To be honest, I was ready to dislike you the second we met. I thought you'd be one of those super handsome men who think the world revolves around them. But that's not you.” Fia smiled as she echoed his words back to him. “Just the opposite, in fact. I'm sorry I misjudged you.”

“I didn't hear anything after 'super handsome'.” Dean slipped his arms around her.

“No, really. I think it's amazing the way you take care of the people around you, people you don't even know. But it's like your safety and your happiness don't count at all. Why do you always have to put yourself last? Why are strangers more important to you than you are?”

Dean made a wry face. “Maybe I like them better.”

Fia winced. “You know that's kind of sad, right? You need to value yourself as much as you value other people or you'll never have a chance at any kind of healthy emotional life.”

“In case you hadn't noticed, healthy emotions ain't exactly high on my priority list. It goes one – Sammy. And two – not gettin' killed.” He grinned. “Pie and sex are in a hot tie for third. Healthy emotions gotta be down in the late 30s, maybe.”

Fia's temper stirred. “Damn it, quit trying to joke this away and listen to me! When you leave here, when you leave me, I want you to take better care of yourself. I need to believe that you can build a happy life at some point. I want to know you'll try.”

Dean's arms dropped. “Jesus, Fia! You make it sound like I _want_ to leave you! I made it clear that I don't want whatever this is between us to end when the curse is broken. But you're so fuckin' stubborn! What the hell are you so afraid of? You know by now that I would never hurt you if I can help it.”

“But you _can't_ help it. No one can. People die, Dean, and hunters sooner than most. I can't lose anyone else.”

“You'll lose me anyway.”

Closing the distance between them, Fia slid one hand around his waist and laid the other on his cheek. “No, I won't. Because I won't have ever let myself really _have_ you in the first place.”

The kiss Dean pressed to her lips was unexpectedly tender and his voice was soft when he spoke in her ear. “That's what you think.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean acts like a jerk and there's a break in the case.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Hey Fia, this soup is awesome!” Sam got up to ladle himself another bowl.

“Thanks, I'm glad you like it. It's one of my favorite recipes, especially at this time of year, when you can smell fall in the air.”

“Yeah, the bread is great, too.” Bobby slathered butter onto a slice before dunking it into his soup.

Dean listened to the conversation with one ear, but his brain was mostly occupied by the talk with Fia earlier on the beach. The more he thought about it, the more irked he got. She wouldn't even consider continuing their relationship, but at the same time she wanted to tell him how to live his life after she kicked him out. _Sorry, honey, you don't get to have it both ways._ And if Fia was so hell-bent on ending things between them, it was high time she got a taste of that reality.

Abruptly, Dean sat forward, turning toward Fia. “So any luck on finding the victims' relatives? We need to end this curse sooner rather than later, so I can get back to doing somethin' useful.” He stopped just short of glaring at her.

Taken aback by his curt tone, Fia looked at him in silence for a moment before answering, not understanding why he wanted to provoke her. “I made some progress. The last confirmed sighting of the Consort was in Omaha in 1933. I've been able to track down all the victims and some of their families, but so far, none living.”

“Well, dead people don't bleed, so that ain't gonna do me much good.” Dean's tone was dismissive. “I'll never get outta here at this rate!”

That got Fia's ire up. “Listen you, I'm doing the best I can!” Her outrage grew when Dean snorted derisively. “Maybe you get off your ass and do some of the damn research yourself!”

“Maybe I will! Can't go any slower than it already is!”

“Fucking ingrate!”

Bobby interjected. “Hey you two, knock that shit off! What the hell is wrong with you, Dean? You know how hard Fia's tried to help us, you especially! Quit bein' a dick.” He swung around to Fia. “And you should know better by now than to let 'im get under your skin like that.”

She was embarrassed at how easily she'd been baited. “You're right, Bobby, I should know better. I'm not usually so easily offended.”

Sam leaned forward. “Hey, don't worry about it. Dean could piss off Mother Teresa.” With the ease of long practice, Sam ignored the wrathful look his brother sent his way. “Maybe you're just burned out on the research. I can take over if you want. I've had plenty of time off.”

Fia looked at him gratefully. “Thanks, Sam. I'd really appreciate some downtime.” Avoiding Dean's eyes, she stood and took her dishes to the sink. “In fact, if you all don't mind, I think I'll go upstairs and soak in a hot bath. That always makes me feel better.” Without a backward glance, she went to the door, oblivious to the pang that went through Dean at the reminder of the big soaking tub upstairs. They'd had an awesome afternoon in that tub a couple days ago.

Bobby waited until he heard Fia climb the stairs, then turned on Dean. “What on God's green earth was that all about?”

Dean's face was obstinate. “Maybe you should ask her!”

“C'mon, dude!” Sam looked at Dean, indignant. “This morning I was willing to let you off the hook about what's going on between you two. But Fia was almost crying this afternoon and then you go and act like a total jerk to her!”

Righteous anger momentarily forgotten, Dean was concerned. “She was cryin'? About what?”

“About you leaving! You probably gave her your patented “Babe I'm Gonna Leave You” speech.”

“I didn't!”

Bobby chimed in. “So then, what exactly are your intentions, Dean?”

Dean's head swiveled around to face Bobby, bewilderment on his face. “Intentions? Towards Fia?”

“Damn right towards Fia! I've seen the way you go through women and she deserves better than that. So I'm askin' again, what are your intentions?”

“Hell Bobby! I intend to take whatever she'll let me have.”

“Good. I figured you were just smart enough to know when you hit the lotto.”

“Fat lot of good it's gonna do me.”

Sam sat forward. “What do you mean by that?”

With a long-suffering sigh, Dean collapsed back into his chair, running a hand resignedly through his hair. “What I mean is that _she's_ the one who gave _me_ the talk about keeping us casual.”

“Wow. That's a first.” There was respect in Sam's voice.

“You're telling me!” There was annoyance in Dean's.

Bobby chuckled. “No wonder you're so damn touchy. That Fia! I knew I liked her.”

Dean was irate. “This is not funny!”

“You ain't sittin' on this side of it. From here, it's funnier 'n a car full of clowns.”

Sam shuddered. “That's not funny at all.” Then a smile broke out on his face. “But this? This is frickin' hilarious!”

Dean grimaced. “I can't believe I missed you two.”

Sobering somewhat, Bobby leaned forward. “Don't take it too serious. It's just refreshin' to see the great ladies' man get sideswiped for once.” His face turned reflective. “But it don't make a lot of sense. If Fia's the one who's stayin' in the shallow water, why was she crying over you?”

“Don't ask me. All I know is that pretty much from the minute we got together, she's insisted that this is strictly short-term. When I'm free of the curse and go back on the road, we're done, whatever I might think about it. She made that crystal clear.”

Looking thoughtful, Sam spoke up. “She sure didn't act like you were just a casual fling. It seems pretty obvious Fia has feelings for you. Why would she want to break it off?”

“She said something about not wanting to get too involved in case I got killed on the job.”

Bobby sat up and peered into Dean's eyes. “Do you have any workin' brain cells left in there?” Ignoring the offended look on Dean's face, he continued. “Let me get this straight. A smart woman has decided that you are likely to die young and doesn't want to buy in for that kind of pain. And you, genius, don't get why she's keepin' her distance?”

“But that's the thing, Bobby, Fia's not keeping her distance. It's like Sammy said. She has feelings for me, I know it, I can see it. She doesn't even try to hide how she feels.” Dean shook his head wonderingly, eyes turned inward. “I never met a woman like her. She'll say stuff that should leave her vulnerable, but somehow it makes her seem stronger.”

The sound of Bobby's voice snapped him from his reverie. “Like what, for instance?”

Dean flushed and glanced around the room, lowering his voice. “Like, you know... sex stuff. She'll tell me, uh, what kind of... effect I have on her. If I was a different kinda guy, I might try to use that to get my own way, but she ain't afraid to put herself out there. At the same time, she won't even consider really letting me into her life. It's so fuckin' frustrating, I just don't get it!”

“Kid, there's no big mystery. Far as I can tell, Fia's bein' straight with you. You two are sleeping together, she's got feelings for you, but she ain't willing to risk havin' to bury you. You, Dean, are involved with an actual honest person. Trust me, there ain't many of those around.”

“So what the hell do I do?”

“You damn well give her honesty back. Anything less than that and I'd bet you don't stand a chance at making the switch from temporary to permanent.”

“Honesty, huh? Not exactly my strong point.”

“Learn quick.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Dean gave it an hour before climbing the stairs to Fia's room. He spent the time in silence on the back porch, trying to figure out what to say. First, though, he had to figure out how he felt, what he really wanted from her. And it came to him that what he really wanted was a chance – a chance to spend more time with her, a chance to see himself through her eyes once in a while. She made him feel like he was maybe worth more than he thought. That he was more than just a killer.

As he stood outside her door, Dean realized that he still didn't know what he was going to say. But at least now he knew what he wanted and just had to hope that he could say it right. He rapped lightly on the door and heard a faint “Come in.”

Ducking his head around the door, he saw Fia curled up in the rocking chair that sat on her deck. When she turned to look at him, Dean could see that she'd been crying and felt a stab of remorse. He crossed the room and stepped out into the autumn twilight, crouching next to her chair so that he could look her in the eye.

“I'm sorry for being such an asshole. Let's get that out of the way right off. I had no right to talk to you like that, it was unfair and just plain mean. I'm sorry.”

Her red-rimmed eyes filled with tears again, but she smiled. “Apology accepted. Thank you for that. What was it all about anyway? You came out swinging!”

  
Dean braced himself. _Honesty, remember?_ “Well, I got kinda pissed when I thought about how you're makin' me leave, but everything you do makes me want to stay.”

More than a little shaken by his stark admission, Fia took refuge in precision. “You know you're leaving soon, no matter what I do. You're a hunter.”

Huffing impatiently, Dean stood and leaned against the railing, folding his arms across his chest. “Don't avoid the subject, you know what I mean. Everything about this feels real and you sure as hell act like you feel the same, but you keep insisting that it has to end. Why? Is it because wherever I go demons follow? 'Cause you got the safest safe house I've ever seen.”

“No, it's not that. Grandma didn't want me involved in hunting, but whether she meant to or not, she trained me for it all the same. I'm not afraid of that.” Fia had to respect his honesty, had to try to return it. She took a deep breath. “The truth is that I could fall for you. And I mean, fall all the way. And I don't know if I would survive another loss like that in my life. I can't take that risk.”

Dean smiled a little sadly. “I would ask why you assume it'll be a loss, but I already know. I also know that you're stronger than you think. And maybe I'm harder to kill than you think. At least consider the possibility of giving this a chance, okay?”

She looked out at the dusk littered with leaves falling over the stream. “I just don't know.”

Unfolding his arms, he braced his hands on the railing behind him, waiting for her eyes to return to his. There was a hint of vulnerability in his face when he finally spoke. “Fia, I've never felt this way about anyone and we've only been together a week. I don't want to lose that. I want to see where it might go. What if it gets better than it already is?” Dean waggled his eyebrows. “Think of the sex!”

Fia laughed. “It's always the sex with you, isn't it?”

“Of course it's always the sex! But that's not all it is and we both know it. Listen, God knows I'm not askin' for a commitment or anything, but I am askin' you to try and be open to the idea of us spending more time together after this thing is over.”

Standing up, she moved to the railing and put her arms around his neck. “I won't make any promises as to the outcome, but I will agree to consider the idea.” Pressing herself against him, Fia whispered in his ear. “Want to start trying to convince me?”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

It was some time later when Dean and Fia descended the stairs hand in hand, only to stop halfway down at the sight of Bobby dropping his packed bag on the floor in the entryway. He looked up and grinned knowingly at the sight of them, but didn't say anything.

“What's up, Bobby? Goin' somewhere?”

“Yeah, we are.” Sam spoke from the top of the stairs, his own bag in hand. “We got a lead and we don't have any time to waste.”

Fia's stomach dropped a little, but felt better when Dean's hand tightened on hers. “What kind of lead?” She was relieved that her voice came out steady and calm.

Sam followed them down the stairs as he explained. “I found the grandson of Ruth Hitchens, killed by the Consort in 1931. He's in a nursing home in Lincoln, Nebraska and he's in bad shape. I just called pretending to be his grandson and they said he has another couple days, max. We gotta get there before he takes a turn for the worse.”

“So you're gonna go steal blood from an old man on his deathbed?” Dean smirked. “I hate to miss that one. It sounds exciting!”

“Hardy-har, funnyman. Next time we take down a shapeshifter, you get to clean up the mess.” Bobby turned to Sam. “You 'bout ready, Stretch?”

“Yeah, let's go.”

Fia picked up the garage door remote from the entry table. “I'll come open the gate.”

“In that case, I'm comin', too.” Dean grabbed his jacket from the coat hook on the wall and handed Fia's to her.

She took it, looking up at him in exasperation. “For pity's sake, I've been walking in these woods at night since I was a wee one, as Grandma used to say. I'll be fine!”

“I don't doubt it, but humor me. Besides, a nighttime walk sounds kinda romantic.” He leered at her.

Rolling her eyes, Fia couldn't help but laugh. “You, with the one track mind!” She went to the door. “Which car are we taking?” Opening it, she waved them all through, not bothering to lock it on her way out.

“The Impala,” Sam answered and Dean turned a hard look on him as they walked down the stairs. “What? Just a few more days, Dean, I promise she'll be fine.”

“She better be.” As Fia rounded the car to the passenger side, Dean automatically headed for the driver's seat, but Sam jingled the keys in his ear.

“Uh-uh. Backseat for you.”

Altering his trajectory slightly, Dean opened the back door. “I know! That's where I was headed.” As he started to climb in, Bobby paused on his way to stow his gear in the trunk and looked at Dean with a conspiratorial air.

“So... honesty, huh?”

Dean's face broke out in a mile-wide smile. “Dude, I'm convinced!”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

At the end of the driveway, Fia climbed out of the car and walked quickly up to the gate, checking for headlights on the road before she pressed the button on the remote. As the gate swung open, she headed back to where Dean stood at Sam's window.

Putting an arm around Fia's waist and pulling her close, Dean smiled condescendingly down at his little brother. “Now you be careful in that nursing home, okay? I hear people die in those places all the time.”

Fia sent a knowing look at Sam. “What he really means is don't get hurt and come back safe.”

He nodded and laughed a little. “I know. I've been interpreting Dean's grumbles all my life.”

“Well, I'm saying the same thing, to both of you. Come back safe.”

Bobby leaned over and peered out the window at her. “Don't worry, kid, this is just a milk run. The hard part's gonna be usin' the weapon once we got it.”

“Still, if Grandma's stories impressed anything on me, it's that you can't predict what a hunter is going to face, or when it will happen. And since we should assume the Consort knows what kind of weapon can kill him, there's a possibility that he's keeping an eye on the old guy. So watch yourselves, okay?”

“We will.” Sam let off the brake and the Impala slowly rolled toward the gate. “And we'll call when it's done. See you two in a couple days!” He waved as the car pulled onto the road and Bobby echoed the gesture with a raised hand.

As the taillights receded, Fia hit the button to close the gate. Some of the camouflage had gotten entangled with a nearby blackberry bush and Dean stepped up to wrestle it free. The motion made the wound on his arm burn under the bandage. _I'll be glad when the damn thing is gone!_

Impatiently shaking off the pain, he turned from the closed gate and took Fia's hand. “You didn't happen to bring a flashlight, didja?” Dean squinted back along the darkened drive.

“I have a little one, but the moon is so bright, I don't think we need it. Let's live dangerously.” Fia tugged on his hand and started away from the gate. Dean quickly realized she was right. Once his eyes adjusted, he had no difficulty following the road. In fact, it was really peaceful just walking hand in hand through the moonlight. He could get used to this.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Minutes later, at the gate behind them, an unnatural shadow shot through with blue sparks appeared, wavering and shimmering for a few seconds, then rapidly coalescing into the shape of a man. This dark form stepped up to the fence, bending to examine the protective runes and charms carved into the wood. Delicately laying one fingertip on the nearest charm, he caused a blue aura to form around it that spread like wildfire down the unbroken line of magic running along the fence. With a flick of the wrist, the figure drew every scrap of the blue light back into himself. Licking the last bit of glow from his finger, he hummed with pleasure. And then he simply walked through the gate, leaving it in matchsticks behind him as he followed the drive into the dark woods.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Consort of the Mother finally shows himself.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Fia and Dean walked in silence through the moonlit forest for a few minutes, thinking their own thoughts. Finally, she spoke. “So. A couple more days. It doesn't seem like much, does it?”

Dean felt a surge of cautious hope, but kept it carefully hidden. “No, it doesn't. Me leaving seems a lot more real all of a sudden.”

Fia stopped and turned to him. The night had grown chilly and she slipped her arms around Dean's waist, snuggling close for warmth. “Maybe we could compromise? You could stay for a little while longer, even after the curse is done.”

His arms encircled her, but Dean's face was pensive. “I could probably swing that, sure, but would it change anything? Or is it just puttin' off the inevitable?” Looking down at Fia, his expression suddenly held a gleam of hunger. “On the other hand, so what?” And he kissed her greedily, groaning a little when her arms tightened around him, dragging him closer as she kissed him back just as greedily.

Fia felt the roughness of tree bark through her jacket without quite knowing how they'd moved off the road. Not that she cared with Dean pressing against her, kissing her with a single-mindedness that obliterated all other considerations.

That is, until he raised a hand to her face and she felt the warm stickiness of blood against her cheek. Jerking back, Fia grabbed his wrist and was horrified to see that blood had soaked through the bandage and the jacket sleeve. She looked up at Dean and opened her mouth, but before the words could form, a blinding flash inside her head made her reel back against the tree.

For a few excruciating seconds, Fia was buffeted by waves of terror, bewilderment, and agonizing pain overlaying a bone-deep cold. At the same time, she saw an image in her head of a tree withering from one breath to the next and felt the approach of something powerful and menacing. Somehow, she knew that the vision was coming _from the trees._ Abruptly, it receded and Fia opened her eyes to find Dean staring down at her with concern.

“What happened? What did you see?” His hands tightened on Fia's arms and she straightened, eyes frantic.

“He's here, he's inside the fence! We have to get back to the house!”

Grabbing Dean's hand, she started running with all her might down the dimly lit drive, but stumbled and nearly fell when the vision repeated itself. Dean kept her from falling and held her upright while she was at its mercy. This time, it carried even more urgency and terror, almost pleading with her to help, but she didn't know how she could.

Recovering, Fia nodded at Dean and they resumed running. They were nearly to the house when he looked behind them and swore. “Shit! Faster! We got company!” Redoubling their efforts, their pace brought them within sight of the front porch in a few more seconds.

It wasn't fast enough. From the corner of her eye, Fia saw a blue glow veering through the dark woods to cut them off from the house. She couldn't quite tell what it was, but it moved low and fast to the ground, uttering deep, vicious growls that had a disturbing note of dark laughter to them. A second one circled around from behind, trapping them in the open space in front of the house.

Skidding to a stop in a spray of gravel, Dean turned Fia so that they were standing back-to-back, pulling his knife from its sheath inside his jacket. He took the water bottle of monster juice from his belt and handed it to her, keeping his eyes on the creature in front of him. She took the bottle by feel, watching the other... animal? It had canine qualities, but there was something of the primate about it, too. In fact, as she studied it, Fia decided that it was the worst possible combination of the two. Outlined in unearthly blue fire, it had the sleek threat of a Doberman Pinscher, combined with the dextrous strength of a chimpanzee, capped off with a truly dismaying look of malevolent intelligence on its face.

Fia shuddered. “What the hell are they? And why aren't they attacking us?”

“I'd bet they aren't attacking because they're waitin' for their master.” Dean's voice was grim. “But I don't know what they are. Looks like a dog got it on with a monkey. Dogchimp? Apedog?” He examined the monster in front of him. “Fia, I don't like the look of these things. If you get a chance, you run for it. I'll hold 'em off.”

“Fuck you, you'll die is what you'll do! And you think whatever is out there won't come into the house to get me when it's done with you? Uh-uh, we stick together.” Fia took a tighter grip on her untested weapon and hoped she could live up to her brave words.

“Okay then.” Dean had to admire her courage. He measured the distances with his eye. “I think we might make a break for the door. On the count of three, you go first and I'll be right behind you.” She snorted cynically, obviously expecting him to trick her into the dubious safety of the house while he sacrificed himself. “I promise. I want us both to live, believe me!”

She heard the sincerity in his voice. “Okay, when we get inside, head for the spell room in the basement. It's the most defensible, and I can make some shit happen with that inventory.”

For no good reason, Dean felt a warm glow of pride at her words. She was somethin' else. Smothering a smile, he started the countdown. “Ready? One... two... three!” They broke for the door, Dean a half step behind Fia.

That half step was enough for the nearest apedog to get its teeth into the back of his coat and drag Dean to the ground. Fia heard him fall and jerked to a halt, turning to see that the monster had him pinned and looked ready to tear his throat out, whether its master was there or not.

Completely forgetting the bottle in her hand, Fia instinctively returned to skills learned in a long ago self defense class. She hauled back and kicked the preoccupied creature square in its snarling face. The angle was bad and she felt her ankle wrench when she made contact, but she managed to knock it off-balance enough for Dean to free his knife hand and kill it.

Fia didn't see the killing blow, however. The second apedog hit her like a ton of bricks, clamping its jaws onto her left bicep and shaking her back and forth before throwing her hard against a tree. She collapsed at the base, stunned and bleeding freely.

When her vision cleared, Fia saw that Dean had dragged himself to his feet and was headed in her direction, but the second monster intercepted him. Blindsiding him, it easily bent his arm up behind his back, forcing him to his knees and pushing his head to the leaf-covered ground. It plucked the knife from Dean's hand and tossed it aside into a pile of leaves as a tall figure emerged into the porch light.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Fia had been expecting an ancient, primitive monstrosity. Instead, the shadows revealed a tall, good-looking man, with jet-black hair and pale skin. A masterfully tailored navy blue suit accentuated his slim frame and he carried an ebony walking stick with a silver swan head handle, casually twirling it with a studied grace. For a moment, she was relieved, until his eyes met hers and she felt the full force of the empty malice and hunger that lay behind the calm, ice-blue gaze. Fia shuddered gratefully when he turned that measuring look away from her and focused on Dean.

“Ah, Dean Winchester. I've _so_ been looking forward to this. Although I had hoped that Sam would be here as well.” He shrugged elegantly. “But I suppose, if I can only have one of you, I'm absolutely thrilled that it turned out to be you, you _murdering coward_!” For a moment, savage anger twisted his features and corrupted his voice. In the next second, the suave and urbane mask was back in place and he looked at Fia once again.

“Allow me to introduce myself properly.” He bowed slightly. “I am the Consort of Eve, Mother of All.”

Dean's voice was muffled, but understandable. “Yeah, meet the Baby Daddy of All.”

Contempt was plain on the Consort's face as he twitched a finger, signaling the apedog to allow Dean to sit up. Doing so, Dean found his neck nearly encircled by a strong hand tipped with wicked claws. He felt blood start to drip from the small punctures wounds that appeared at the ends of the talons and he held perfectly still, knowing his throat could be ripped out in no time.

Satisfaction gleamed in the Consort's eye as he surveyed the helpless hunter. “Don't be stupid! Or at least, be no more stupid than necessary. The Mother didn't need a male to create life, She _was_ life! Until you killed Her. You! A miniscule, ridiculous, pathetic...” His words choked off and he struggled silently with his rage.

Dean couldn't resist poking the tiger. “So if you weren't the sperm donor, exactly what purpose did you serve? Before I killed your girlfriend, I mean.”

The fury that had been surging through the Consort instantly iced over. He turned a glacial smile on Dean. “She was Life and I am Death.”

Striving to appear unaffected, Dean sneered. “Listen you, I've met Death. I shared a pizza with Death. And you, freakazoid, are no Death.”

The evil smirk grew wider. “Did you think that Death had only one face, infant? We are legion.”

Dean snorted, unimpressed. “For such a high mucky-muck, it sure took a long time for you to find me!”

The Consort's face turned stern. “Yes, I know. That spell was fail-safe, but then you just disappeared and a world full of demons couldn't find you! It was infuriating, to say the least. So I took to keeping watch myself.” The smile surfaced again, dazzling in its hollow, icy brilliance. “And then you, you stupid little creature, poked your tiny little head up out of your rabbit hole and now I've come to remove it for you.” He glanced at Fia, who was staring at him, wide-eyed and frozen in terror.

“I think I'll start your punishment by having my minions skin _your_ girlfriend alive. They can make that last a very long time, very gratifying.” He turned to Dean to see his reaction to the threat.

That statement brought a new clarity to the situation for Fia. Ignored for the moment, she groped around in the leaves, hoping for a rock or a stick, anything to at least try to defend herself with. Her hand closed on a stout branch and with a pleased glance, she noted that the far end was nice and pointy. The blood from her arm made her hand slick and she settled her grip more firmly. Whatever this guy thought, she wasn't going down without a fight.

“Who, her?” Dean's voice dripped contempt. “Not my girlfriend. Just some witch-bitch who made herself temporarily useful. I was thinking of gankin' her myself when I'm done here. You could save me the trouble.”

“Liar. She has your scent all over her.”

“What? You never been bored?” Dean couldn't look at Fia and prayed she understood what he was doing.

The Consort paused, looking at her thoughtfully, making her clutch the makeshift weapon where it lay hidden at her side. “It doesn't matter, she's still going to die.” Ignoring Dean's shout of enraged protest, he stepped toward where she sat with her back pressed to the tree.

When Fia saw him advancing, she made a move to flee, but stopped abruptly at a surprised shout of pain from Dean. Freezing in place, she turned to see the apedog continue dragging one claw the width of Dean's chest, shredding his shirt and leaving a ragged gash behind. The look of horror on her face made the Consort laugh, the sound like a blend of tinkling bells and nails on a chalkboard.

“No, my dear, I wouldn't advise trying to run. Unless you want your paramour to die by inches in front of you.” He pretended to contemplate. “I think I'll have them start with his hands. Exquisitely sensitive, they'll provide a lot of very satisfying agony without letting him die too soon. Would you like that?” He turned an inquisitive look on Fia. “I've found that some humans do appreciate the art of torture.”

She shook her head in mute revulsion and obediently sat back against the tree. The Consort stepped up to her and despite her best efforts, Fia couldn't help flinching away slightly. He laughed again.

“Actually, little one, it's not me you should be afraid of. Oh, I'll feast on your life force as you die in unspeakable torment, to be sure, but I don't like to get my hands bloody.” He smiled brightly at her. “That's what minions are for. And I believe this tree will provide enough energy to create one more than worthy of your fear.”

He placed his hand on the trunk above her head, generating an unearthly blue glow similar to the energy he had drained from the fence charms. But this time, it enveloped the tree behind her in a blaze of blue light. It only lasted a moment before the tree suddenly drew in on itself, drying up and withering within seconds. At the same time, blue phosphorescence dripped from the dying branches and began to coalesce into another, much larger apedog.

Fia was in full physical contact with the tree and in those few seconds, she felt Oak Friend die. She screamed, experiencing the ordeal with him, feeling as if her insides were being dragged out of her body through a pinhole, leaving nothing behind but soul-searing cold and darkness. Then it was over and through the pain and grief, she realized that her visions had been the deaths of other trees, felt at a much greater distance.

As the Consort turned to watch his new minion take shape from the life force of her friend, Fia jumped to her feet, blind with rage and desolation. She jammed the branch straight up under his ribs, into his heart, only to have her ankle explode with white hot pain and give way beneath her. She fell to the ground and huddled there, sure the Consort was about to have her ripped to pieces. In that moment, Fia didn't care if he did. The last thing she expected was to hear the thud of his body hitting the ground in front of her.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Consort is dead, but the cost is still being counted.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Opening her eyes, Fia saw the Consort's face inches from her feet, his eyes already clouding over in the midst of an almost comical look of astonishment. Staring around her in shock and confusion, she saw that Dean was bleeding, but alive and dragging himself to his feet. Both apedogs had apparently dissolved into shapeless grey masses at the death of their master.

Without a word, and knowing it was futile, she dragged herself to the desiccated trunk of her friend and wrapped her arms around him as far as she could reach. Unbelievably, she felt the faintest receding echo of Oak Friend and, closing her eyes, she cried out to him with her inner voice. “Don't go! Don't leave me alone!” A shard of an image came to her, of a dense stand of trees and a sense of the myriad lives it contained. It was tree-speak for _you are never alone._ Then he was gone.

Dean came to stand behind her, one hand pressed to the bloody but shallow wound on his chest. He put the other hand on her shoulder as she knelt in front of the ruin of Oak Friend. “God, Fia, I'm so sorry!”

Sitting back, she turned dull eyes on him, unaware of the tears streaming down her face. Her voice was expressionless as she focused on him. “You're bleeding.”

Her face was blank and the flatness of her voice alarmed him. Dean resisted the urge to shake her until she snapped out of it. Instead, he knelt down and gently turned Fia toward him, away from the tree. He spoke urgently, trying break through her frightening numbness. “C'mon Fia! You're hurt. We need to get you to a doctor.”

“Why? What does it matter?”

“Trust me, it matters.” Standing, he took hold of her good hand and started to haul her to her feet, but she cried out and fell back. “Shit! What's wrong?” Dropping to his knees again, Dean put an arm around her.

“My ankle, I think it's sprained.” The pain was sharp enough to pierce the deadening fog wrapped around Fia. She tried to choke back a sob. Despite her best efforts, it broke loose and she found herself unable to stem the tide of grief. Turning her face into his jacket, she cried with such hopeless desolation that Dean felt his own eyes spill over.

He cradled Fia until the storm passed, stroking her hair and murmuring soft reassurances. When she finally sat silent and exhausted in his arms, Dean tenderly brushed the last of her tears away with his thumb. His voice was quietly encouraging. “Think you can make it into the house?”

Fia nodded wordlessly. He stood up and bent to take her arm over his shoulder, waiting until she had her one good foot under her before he slowly helped raise her from the ground. They made their way up the porch steps, sidling awkwardly through the front door, and finally into the great room, where Dean carefully lowered Fia to the couch.

As soon as she was settled, he pulled his phone out and speed-dialed Sam.

When his brother answered, Dean skipped the preliminaries. “Come back.” He listened for a second before interrupting. “We're alive, I'll fill you in on the rest later. Just come back.” He hung up without waiting for a response, then headed into the kitchen, tossing his jacket carelessly over a chair. Pulling out an ice pack, he returned to where Fia sat staring blankly at the fireplace.

Stacking a couple of couch pillows on the coffee table, he carefully took Fia's injured foot and propped it up, laying the ice pack over it. She sat unresisting as he pushed the coat off her shoulders and cautiously pulled the sleeve from her savaged arm. Dean breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the the leather jacket had absorbed some of the damage. It was bloody and she would have a hell of a set of scars, but she shouldn't lose any function.

“I'll be right back.” He smiled at her, but she didn't respond. She did look at him, though; at least that was something. More worried by the minute, Dean got up and ran a bowl of warm water, carrying it back to the couch with bandages and a bottle of antiseptic from the bathroom.

After carefully washing away the excess blood, he prepared to pour the disinfectant over the injury. “Brace yourself, this is gonna hurt.” When she didn't acknowledge his words, Dean shrugged and tipped the bottle. Fia grimaced, but no sound escaped her. Unsure if he should admire her grit or be afraid she was disconnecting from reality, Dean wrapped clean gauze around her arm.

Casting a satisfied look at his handiwork, Dean stood. “I don't know about you, but I could use a colossal drink.” By this time, he didn't expect her to answer, so he just poured himself a generous whiskey and a second, smaller one for her. Glancing over at Fia, still motionless and silent, he splashed another inch of liquor into her glass.

Careful not to jostle her foot, Dean settled onto the couch next to Fia. When she didn't reach for the glass he held out, he sighed and set his own drink down. Taking her hand, he put the glass into it. “Drink this!”

She examined the glass in confusion. “Why?”

“You'll feel better, I promise. It'll help.” At least, he really, really hoped it would help. If it didn't, he wasn't sure what else to do.

“If you say so.” Indifferently obedient, she took two large swallows before coughing and spluttering. Dean snagged the glass from her hand so as not to spill any of the precious liquid and waited for her to regain her breath.

When Fia eventually did so, she looked at him, red-faced and eyes streaming. “This is better?”

He laughed in relief at hearing her sound more like herself. “Believe it or not, yeah, it is better.” Handing the glass back to her, Dean gave her a stern look. “I want you to finish that.”

The warmth settling into her belly made Fia agree, in spite of the autocratic tone he'd used. She took a drink and wrinkled her nose. “Is it okay if I have some ice, or is that not allowed, oh great giver of orders?”

Dean took her glass and headed into the kitchen. “Hey, you needed orders! You were pretty checked out there for a while.” He dropped a couple cubes into the whiskey and carried it back to her. “Someone had to take the wheel.”

“You're right, I'm sorry. Thank you for taking care of me.” Remembering the cause of her stupor, Fia gulped from the glass to ease the painful tightness in her throat and pretended the tears in her eyes were from the whiskey's heat. She blinked and looked up at him. “You're still bleeding. Are you ok?”

Dean frowned at the tattered remains of his shirt. “Yeah, it's just a flesh wound. You gonna be okay if I run upstairs for a minute?”

“I'll be fine.” Fia sipped again and tried to look like she wasn't falling apart inside.

Dean wasn't fooled, but if it would make her feel better, he would let her maintain the illusion. “Be right back.” He took the stairs two at a time, pulling the torn shirt off and using it to blot the last bits of seeping blood from his neck and chest. Tossing it to the floor in his room, he dug around for a clean t-shirt and tugged it over his head on his way back to the stairs.

He only gone for about 45 seconds, but could see from Fia's face that she was already reliving the night's events. Her gaze was turned inward and she was gripping the glass so hard he thought it might shatter in her hand. Dean came to sit beside her and was relieved when she turned to look at him. He'd been half afraid that she had shut down again.

Gently taking the glass from her, he held her hand while he scoured his brain for some way to comfort her. “Are you hungry? I could make something. Or maybe a smoke?”

His kindness nearly undid her and her face crumpled for a half second before Fia regained control. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse, but firm. “I'm not hungry, thanks. But a pipeload would be wonderful.”

Dean brought the smoke box over and set up the pipe for her. Fia took a long draw and held it, offering the pipe back to him. He shrugged. “Don't mind if I do. Helluva night.” He inhaled from it and then held his breath as long as possible before exhaling.

It was only as the last of the smoke drained from his lungs that he realized Fia hadn't exhaled yet. She sat still, eyes closed, one hand gripping his arm, and Dean had time to get a little worried before the first wisps of smoke began to escape. What started as a small, slow stream quickly grew into a swirling white torrent issuing from her lips. It hadn't exhausted itself before Fia's lungs demanded fresh oxygen and she gasped hugely, wavering a little where she sat.

“Wow. Just... wow. I've never seen someone take a hit like that.”

Fia's eyes slid open and she smiled in slow motion as she looked at him. “You haven't seen that many people take hits, period. But yes, that was a professional-grade performance, I will admit.” She carefully picked up the glass of whiskey and took a healthy swallow.

“Hey, maybe you should slow down before you pass out.”

“Ah, but you're assuming I don't _want_ to pass out. An incorrect... assumption... at this point.” As if to prove her point, Fia drank again.

“O-okay, I think that's enough for you to get some sleep.” He rescued the glass from her, setting it out of her reach.

“Hey!”

“I do not want to add cleaning up your vomit to tonight's experiences.” Making sure his own drink was accessible, he put an arm around her and pulled her against him. He tapped his shoulder. “Just put your head here for a bit. If you're still awake in five minutes, I'll eat my shorts and you can have another drink.”

“Ha! You're funny.” Chuckling, she did as he suggested and snuggled down under his chin. Almost immediately, Fia started to drift, unaware that she grasped a handful of his shirt and held on for dear life as she slept.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Ten minutes later, Sam and Bobby stared in dismay at the ruin of the hidden gate.

“We ain't even been gone an hour! What in blazes coulda happened?”

“Let's go find out.” Sam's face was grim as he stomped on the gas, spraying gravel as they sped down the drive.

Dean heard the Impala pull up and started trying to shift Fia onto a pillow without waking her. He hadn't quite succeeded when the front door opened and he heard Bobby's voice call out. “Dean? Fia?”

Cupping his hands loosely over her ears, Dean called out in a low voice. “In here!” Fia shifted and murmured in her sleep, but didn't wake. He was just settling her injured foot when the guys walked in.

“Wha...” Sam started to speak, but Dean whirled on him with a finger to his lips.

“Shhh! I just got her to sleep.” Dean jerked his head toward the kitchen, then turned back and covered Fia with the quilt draped over the back of the couch.

The three men sat at the kitchen island, talking in low voices.

“Why is Fia sleeping?” Sam cast a worried look at the couch.

“She's in shock. Well that, along with a couple ounces of good whiskey and the most epic pipe hit I've ever seen.”

Bobby raised his eyebrows. “Is that all? You didn't have Valium or some heroin layin' around you could give 'er? Must be some damn case of shock.”

“It is. If I'd had Valium, I'da given it to her. You didn't see her, Bobby. It was scary. Like a great big chunk of her just went away and maybe wasn't coming back.” Dean felt a chill run over him, remembering how vacant Fia had seemed.

“Hell, I didn't think she was _that_ fragile.” Bobby didn't bother to hide his surprise.

“Believe me, if there's one thing she's not, it's fragile. Anyone would fold after what she went through tonight.”

“So what exactly did she go through tonight? I take it the dead dandy with the branch in his chest is the Consort?” He jerked his thumb at the windows overlooking the drive.

“Yeah, that's him alright.”

“How did he find you after all this time?” Sam was perplexed.

Dean's face reflected his chagrin. “I figure I got too close to the fenceline, accidentally stuck my arm out too far, and set off the alarms. Dickhead out there was just waiting for it and he showed up here less than ten minutes after you left.”

“Here's another, probably more important question.” Bobby leaned forward. “How in the hell is that guy dead? The only weapon that could kill him ain't been assembled yet.”

“It was Fia. Man, you guys shoulda seen her! Baddest of the badasses.” Dean shook his head in admiration. “She pulled a full-on Kerri Strug. Stuck the landing,” he mimed the fatal stabbing, “then her ankle gave out and she fell over. But she got the job done!”

Sam smiled at the sudden recollection of Dean's teenage crush on the tiny gymnast. “That still doesn't explain how a tree branch managed to kill the Consort of the Mother.”

Dean's face fell a little. “That's another reason Fia's in shock. You know that big oak tree out front?”

“Yeah, what happened to it?”

“The Consort sucked the life out of it to make himself a new pet so he could replace the one I killed. I guess you could say the branch was the bone of a victim.”

Bobby sighed with exaggerated patience. “Still gotta have blood of a loved one.”

“I know. Thing is, that tree was as much a part of Fia's family as you two are a part of mine. He was named Oak Friend and I'm not sure, but he mighta been the only family she had left. There's no doubt she loved him, and her blood was all over that branch.”

Sam sat up, alarmed. “She was bleeding? Why?”

“Uh, well, she kinda got rag-dolled by one of the apedogs.”

“She got _what_ by a _what_?” In his disbelief, Bobby forgot to lower his voice and Dean glared at him, but explained anyway.

“I guess the Consort liked mix-and-match monsters as much as Eve did. He came in with a couple of things that looked like they were half monkey-half attack dog, only smarter and meaner. And one of 'em got Fia's arm in its teeth, shook her around some, then threw her against the tree.” Dean's heart raced a little, thinking about that moment when he'd been terrified she was lying dead at the base of Oak Friend.

“Holy shit! She got bit by some kind of demon-bred, what'd you call it, apedog?! How are you not on the way to hospital with her right now?” Bobby's voice was louder now.

“Hush, you'll wake her!”

“Hush nothin'! She needs to wake up, I'm takin' her to a doctor!”

A tired voice drifted to them over the back of the couch. “No, Bobby, you're not.” Fia struggled to a sitting position, mostly managing to hide a grimace of discomfort as she moved sore muscles. Dean was across the room like lightning, helping her rearrange her damaged limbs.

“And why the hell not, may I ask?”

Dean was a little offended. “I'm not an idiot, Bobby. Her coat protected her from the worst of the bite, it was way less serious than it coulda been. I cleaned and bandaged it, so there's no real urgency. It just seemed like she needed peace and quiet more than she needed bright lights and doctors.”

“And if I go into an ER with a bite like this, they'll want to give me rabies shots and I'm just not up for that. We all know if that thing infected me with something, it isn't going to be rabies. I'm better off here with my spellcraft than there getting stuck with needles.”

Sam spoke up. “What about your ankle? Shouldn't someone look at that?”

Fia rolled her eyes. “Goddess, save me from mother hens!” She smiled at Bobby and Sam affectionately. “You're both really sweet, but I'll be okay. I've had sprains before, I know what to do. I promise if the foot or the arm don't get better in the next couple of days, I'll go see a doctor. In the meantime, I just want to go to sleep in my own bed.”

“That's a good idea.” Dean stood up. “Maybe you guys could start dealing with the mess outside while I get Fia settled?” Ignoring Bobby's grumble, he stooped to put one arm under Fia's legs.

“Whoa! What the hell are you doing?” She sat up straight and looked at him in confusion.

“You can't walk up those stairs, so I was gonna carry you to your room.”

“Yeah, I don't think so. Just help me up the way you did outside.” Fia swiveled to put her good foot on the floor and held up an arm expectantly. Dean reluctantly complied and they slowly started for the stairs.

He was quickly impatient with their progress. “Damn it, Fia, I can carry you up the stairs!”

“Damn it, Dean, I don't want you to!” Her impatience matched his. Waving a hand in the general direction of the kitchen, she quizzed him. “Would you try to carry Sam up the stairs, even if he wasn't a giant? No! You wouldn't! I'm not a fucking damsel, Dean!”

“I know you're not a damsel, but you _are_ hurt. What can't you let m...” Their voices faded as they climbed.

Sam stared after them. “Holy shit. She's perfect for him.”

Bobby chuckled. “Ain't she, though? Now if he can just not screw it up.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Upstairs, Dean made Fia sit on the bed while he wrapped her chilled ankle in an ace bandage. He helped her undress and climb under the covers. Brushing the hair out of her eyes, he spoke tenderly. “You want me to stay until you fall asleep?”

“No, that's okay.” Fia's voice was tired. “I'll be fine. You go ahead and help the guys.”

“I'll be comin' to bed soon. It's been a long ass day!”

Her face grew uncomfortable and Fia tried to speak diplomatically. “Don't take this the wrong way, but with my ankle and my arm, it might be better if you slept in your own bed tonight.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get it.” Dean's tone was carefully even. “You gotta do what you can to be comfortable.” He gestured at her side table. “Your phone's right there. If you need anything, text me. I don't want you out of this bed unless I'm here to help.”

Fia's relief was evident. “Thank you for understanding. And for everything else tonight, too.”

“No, thank you!” His smile was genuine. “For a rookie, you were fuckin' awesome! You saved my ass and Sammy's, too. I'd fight with you any day, Fia Armstrong.” Dean kissed her on the forehead and then, softly, on the lips. “Now, get some sleep, hero.”

She clung to him for a second before settling down under the sheets. “G'night, Dean.”

“Goodnight.” He turned off the light and closed the door as he left.

Instead of dropping off at once, as she'd hoped, Fia lay there wide-eyed and alert, watching the shadows shift and dance on her wall as tree branches swayed in the moonlight outside. She thought of those last moonlit moments with Dean before everything had exploded around her. Her heart twisted and she forced her mind to something else. Unfortunately, her thoughts ricocheted into worse territory, as it occurred to her that she would never see Oak Friend sway in the wind again.

It was too much. Fia curled in on herself, heedless of her injuries, the myriad aches and pains in her body overwhelmed by the searing grief. She wept, choking and coughing, clutching a pillow to her stomach as if it could somehow fill the gaping, horrifyingly familiar chasm of pain that had opened up inside her. After a time, the fury of her sorrow diminished somewhat and Fia fell asleep, still crying softly.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes emotional wounds are more dangerous than the physical ones.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Dean knocked on Fia's door, balancing a breakfast tray on one arm. Not waiting for an answer, he twisted the knob and walked in, only to find the bed empty. Muttering a curse, he set the tray down on the side table just as the bathroom door opened.

Fia hobbled out, a crutch under one arm.

“What the hell are you doin' out of of bed? Didn't I tell you to text me?”

Despite her pale face and tendency to sway where she stood, Fia was quietly defiant. “I said I've had sprains before. I forgot I had crutches in the back of my closet, but I remembered them this morning.” She stumped slowly over to the bed. “You guys won't be here forever, so I need to be able to move around on my own.”

“We'll be here a while yet.” Dean gestured impatiently. “Sit down there, so I can take a look at you. If you're good, you can have breakfast when I'm done.”

Grateful to be sitting down, but hiding it, Fia sank onto the bed and scooted up to sit against the headboard. She nodded toward his arm, free of a bandage for the first time in weeks. “How's the cut? Healing yet?”

With a grin, Dean sat on the edge of the bed, turning his arm so that she could see. “Yep! Already scabbed over and everything.” Carefully taking her foot in his hands, he unwrapped the bandage.

“Still swollen. How far can you rotate it?” Fia demonstrated, scowling at the pain. “I think you'll be alright in a week or so.” He stacked a couple of pillows under the foot and grabbed a fresh ice pack from the tray he'd brought , laying it in place. “I'm gonna leave it unwrapped for the moment, you keep moving it as far as you can, as much as you can.”

“Yes, Dr. Winchester.” Although her tone was meek, Fia's eyes mocked him.

“That's enough sass from you! Now let's see that arm.” Peeling back the bloody bandage, Dean eyed her wounds. “Good! Doesn't look inflamed or anything. I think you're gonna live.” Quickly, he dabbed antiseptic onto the raw bits before wrapping fresh gauze around the arm once more. “There, all done. Ready for food?”

“Sure.” Fia sat up straight as Dean set the tray onto her lap. “Mmm, pancakes. And who doesn't love bacon?” She picked up a piece and nibbled on it.

Grabbing one himself, Dean folded it in half and shoved it in his mouth. Chewing and swallowing mightily, he grinned at her. “I swear, I could live on the stuff.”

“I bet you could.” Fia sipped her orange juice.

Licking his fingers, Dean stood. “If you think you'll be okay for a while, me and the guys are gonna go burn the Consort's body. Got any suggestions on where that should happen?”

Shuddering a little, Fia considered. “As far away as possible. Tell you what, you can go across to the other side of the entrance road. I own that property, too, but I'm leaving it wild and don't go over there much. Just never tell me where he is.”

“You got it.” Dean looked at her with concern. “I won't be gone long. Just kick back, eat breakfast, watch some tv. When we're done, I'll come keep you company, okay?”

“Sure. Don't worry, I won't shrivel up and die while you're gone.”

He looked pained at her choice of words, but accepted her assertion. “Okay, I'll see you in a couple hours max.” Dean leaned down and gave Fia a kiss that would have been less brief if she hadn't pulled back.

When he was gone, the mask of normalcy dropped from Fia's face. She picked at her breakfast, managing a few bites of pancake and half a piece of bacon before her appetite fled. Food just seemed so pointless. She could distinguish the flavors and textures, but got no pleasure from them. Eating was a mechanical task, nothing more. As soon as the pangs in her stomach faded a little, Fia pushed the tray aside.

Turning on the tv, she stared blankly at the moving images, not absorbing anything, letting the meaningless inanities flow unhindered through her mind. Anything to keep her own thoughts from surfacing. Fia wasn't sure how long she sat there, fighting back unexpected tears at ridiculous commercials or struggling to remember why characters were doing what they did. The sound of the front door closing brought her back to reality.

_Shit, I can't talk to anyone now. Especially him._ Clicking off the tv, she quickly slid down under the covers. Moments later, she heard footsteps climbing the stairs and the door swung open behind her. There was silence, and then Dean quietly picked up the tray and edged out the door, closing it softly behind him.

Silent tears wound their way down Fia's cheeks.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Sam looked up questioningly when Dean came back downstairs. “Thought you were gonna hang with Fia?”

“I was.” Taking the unfinished tray into the kitchen, Dean frowned. “She pretended to be asleep. And she hardly ate anything.” He turned to look at Bobby where he sat with a book in his hands. “I'm worried, Bobby. Do you think somethin's really wrong with her?”

“Well, you're a decent field medic, so if there is, I expect it ain't physical. From what you told us about what happened, it's no surprise if she's feelin' pretty beat down about now. Give her a while longer, she'll snap out of it.”

Dean's phone was in his hands and he looked up as he hit the send button. “I just told her to text me when she “wakes up”. I'll give her a couple more hours, and then I'm gonna go talk to her, whether she feels like it or not. It can't be good to just sit there by herself all day!”

Bobby closed his book. “I'll tell you what. If we don't hear anything out of her by this afternoon, I'll go and talk to her.” He looked up at Dean, half smiling. “Maybe she's just tired of seein' your face, needs someone new to look at.” It jolted him to see the shadow of real fear in Dean's eyes and realize that he'd given voice to Dean's secret dread. Bobby's voice softened. “It's gonna be okay, Dean. She just needs some time to recover; it's early days yet.”

“I hope you're right, Bobby.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Lunchtime came and went, and Dean obsessively checked his phone for the tenth time. “I'm gonna take her some lunch. She has to eat!”

Sam's eyes were sympathetic as he watched his older brother pace. “Dude, give her some time. It's been less than 24 hours. Maybe she just needs to be alone for a while.”

Dean stopped and shook his head decisively. “She's been alone too much already.” He moved into the kitchen and started assembling a lunch tray.

“You're lucky Bobby's not around.” Sam couldn't hold back a smirk as he pictured Bobby's reaction. “He'd smack you upside the head and call you an idjit.”

“I don't care.” Dean continued with his task. “I'm doin' it anyway.”

When he got to her room, Fia was sitting up, staring blankly at some handsome soap opera face and absently petting Liath, who lay curled on the bed next to her. She glanced up when he came in, but said nothing, returning to the images on the screen.

“Lunchtime!” Refusing to be discouraged, Dean set the tray in front of her. “How 'bout after you eat, I rewrap that ankle and we get you downstairs?”

“Maybe.” Fia picked up a spoon, but found that her stomach clenched at the thought of actually eating any of the soup he'd brought. Instead, she picked up the glass of juice and drank half of it. “You know, I'm not really up to going downstairs yet. Maybe later.” She set the glass down and pushed the tray away. “I'm tired. I think I'll take a nap.”

“Another one?” Dean's voice was incredulous.

His tone nettled her and she turned on him. “Really, why are you all still here pestering me? The curse is broken! Don't you have lives to get back to?”

Trying to pretend that her questions hadn't just started a churn of quiet panic in his gut, Dean answered carefully. “We're here because we don't just abandon friends. And we're worried.”

“Worried about what?”

“About what'll happen to you if we leave you here alone.”

Fia's voice was tired. “The truth is that it's none of your business what happens to me.” She turned back to the tv. “Just go away, Dean. Go home.”

He'd never seen her so detached and aloof, hadn't imagined she was capable of it. It scared him, and that made him mad. “I'll go, don't worry! I don't stay where I'm not wanted. As soon as I know you'll be okay, I'm gone!” Dean picked up the tray and strode out the door, just barely managing not to slam it on the way out.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

A few hours later, Fia lay in the silent room, staring at nothing. She'd given up on the tv as a distraction. In fact, she'd given up on any attempt at distracting herself at all. Instead, she obsessively counted her losses, shards of lost treasure whose keen and ragged edges cut her as she handled them, flaying open scars she'd thought long since healed.

There was a soft knock at her door. Expecting Dean to just walk in, she didn't answer, but then it came again. With a deep sigh, she maneuvered herself upright in bed. “Come in, if you must.”

The door cracked open and Bobby cautiously poked his head through. For some reason, the unexpected sight of his face pierced her defenses and Fia's mouth twisted as she started to cry.

A little surprised, but with a cool head under pressure, Bobby quickly set down the tray he was carrying and sat on the bed next to her. Avoiding her injured arm, he pulled Fia to him and hugged her hard. Fia buried her face in his shoulder and sobbed. He felt his own eyes well up when her tear-choked voice floated up to him.

“What am I going to do, Bobby? I don't know how to live anymore, it hurts too much!”

Knowing that she couldn't really hear him through her pain, Bobby tried anyway. “I tell you what you do, Fia. You hold on, 'cause you know it'll get better someday. It sounds like a lie you tell yourself, but it's the gods-honest truth.” He patted her back comfortingly. “The catch is that you gotta work at it, you gotta try to be open to things getting better. If you can make yourself believe that life won't suck forever, you've won half the battle. The other half is making yourself give a damn whether things get better or not. Speaking as someone who's been there, that's the hardest part. But you just gotta do it or you might as well quit now.”

As Fia began to calm down, Bobby smoothed her hair back, immersed in his own memories. “One day, it seems like you lost everything that ever mattered to you and the whole world is just... hollow. And you start to think that maybe bein' happy again is meaningless, too. But you _can't_ believe that, 'cause the next step is believing that your own life don't mean anything. That is a dangerous place to be, trust me.”

The remembered pain in Bobby's voice mirrored Fia's sorrow and she listened intently as he went on. “If you're lucky, you got people that care about you to help you remember that life is worth somethin', and that you're worth somethin', too. People who pull you back from the brink, like Sam and Dean did for me.” Bobby fell silent, thinking with renewed gratitude about how glad he was to have the boys in his life. He pulled Fia around to face him and gave her a gentle shake. “And you, Fia, are one of the lucky ones, 'cause now you've got us to care about you. We ain't ever gonna let you forget how important you are.”

Her eyes were doubtful. “I honestly don't know if that's going to be enough.”

Bobby took her hand and squeezed it. “You just let us take care of you for a while longer. All you have to do is try to stick with us. No more checkin' out. You ain't alone in this and I don't want you pretendin' you are. Talk to us, about whatever you want, just talk to us, okay?”

She squeezed his hand back. “I'll try.”

“Good enough!” He rummaged around on the tray. “I brought stuff to eat, but I figure you might need somethin' to boost your appetite.” Sitting back, Bobby held out a massive, expertly rolled doobie. “How's that look?”

“Beautiful.” Fia spoke past the sudden tightness in her throat, holding back fresh tears. “Thanks, Bobby.”

“Hell, all I did was roll it, but you're welcome. Whyn't you light that thing while I put something on the tv. You need a good laugh. If you ain't watched _Archer_ yet, you should.”

Within minutes, they were sitting companionably against the headboard, passing the joint back and forth, chuckling at raunchy one-liners.

As the episode ended, Bobby looked sideways at Fia. “So, Dean told me what you said. Tellin' him to leave. Seemed kinda harsh.”

Fia was sorrowful. “You're right, it was harsh. I don't see any other way, though. Dean won't leave unless I make him, and it's too hard to have him here when we can't be together.”

“So why can't you be together?”

Fia held out her hands in a hopeless gesture. “I don't have anything left to give him.”

“Now what in tarnation is that supposed to mean?”

She shook her head, staring down at her hand as she plucked at a loose thread in the quilt. “You have to understand something, I _felt_ it when that bastard sucked the life out of my friends, out of Oak Friend.” Fia hesitated, but forced herself to go on. “I'm afraid he sucked some of my life away, too.” She looked at Bobby, her eyes dry but desolate. “I think I might be broken, Bobby. I'm empty.”

He put an arm around her shoulders. “Aw, honey, if you were empty, you wouldn't be hurtin' so bad.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Dean pretended to surf the web, but Sam could tell that his entire attention was focused on wondering what was going on upstairs. Finally, Dean slammed the laptop closed and stood, crossing the room to look up the stairs. “Why is she talkin' to him and not me? I took her trays of food, too, and I can't last five minutes in her room. But Bobby, he waltzes up there and it's been, what, 20 minutes now? What's he got that I don't?”

“Let me count it up – wisdom, experience, brains, a really dry wit...” Sam was having fun. “Should I go on?”  
The teasing didn't improve Dean's mood. “You should shut the hell up, that's what you should do!” He resumed staring at the tiny corner of Fia's door that was visible from the bottom of the stairs.

“Okay, I think it's time we got you out of the house.” Sam came to stand beside Dean. “You're a free man now, remember?”

Dean grimaced. “Don't remind me.”

Sam tugged on his arm, pulling Dean toward the door. “Let's go.”

Resisting, Dean held his ground. “Go where? And what if Fia comes down and I'm not here?”

“I wouldn't count on her coming down tonight. Bobby's good, but he's not a magician.” Shrugging into his coat, Sam reached for Dean's. “Besides, maybe you should give her a little space. She's been through the ringer.”

Reluctantly, Dean took the coat from Sam. “I guess you might be right.” With a sigh, he shoved his arms into the sleeves. “So where are we going?”

Tossing the keys to Dean, Sam headed out the door. “I thought we'd go get the stuff to repair Fia's front gate.”

“Good idea.” Following him, Dean jogged down the porch stairs to the Impala. He approached the driver's side, running his hand across the roof. Leaning in, he spoke in a low voice before opening the door. “Miss me, Baby?”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

They'd only been back from town for about ten minutes when Bobby came stumping down the stairs. He eyed the bags and bundles that littered the floor, then glanced at Sam sitting in their midst. “Do a little shoppin'?”

“Yeah, we decided to fix Fia's gate while she's out of commission.”

“Sell a lot of lumber at Radio Shack, do they?”

“What?” Sam glanced down. “Oh that. I thought while we're at it, I could upgrade her security. Got a few mini-cams I'm going to hook up to her computer so she can see the gate and the road.”

“And the driveway and the beach stairs and all the outbuildings, huh?” Bobby nudged the overstuffed shopping bag with his foot. “You call that a few?”

“Why not go all the way?” Sam shrugged. “I just hacked a platinum card and this seemed like a good way to max it out. It's for a good cause.”

Finally, Dean could contain his impatience no longer. “So you been upstairs this whole time? What were you doing, painting each other's toenails?”

Bobby's face was expressionless and his tone was dry. “Maybe we did and maybe we didn't.”

“Well, I'm gonna guess you guys talked. What'd she say?”

“That's between her and me. What she wants you to know, she'll tell you. Important thing is that I got her to talk at all. It's like cuttin' open a infected wound. If you don't get that poison out, it'll kill ya.”

“So that's all I get? She talked?”

“Here, I'll give you the complete rundown – she cried, we talked, we smoked, she cried some more, we ate some M&Ms, I changed her bandage, we talked again, we watched a movie, she fell asleep. There, does that satisfy you?”

“What movie?”

“Princess Bride.”

“Good one.”

“Yeah. She was out like a light before Inigo killed Count Rugen.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for the guys to hit the road.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

It was late the next morning when Dean's phone pinged. Snatching it up, he read the two words out loud. “I'm starving.” Tossing the phone down, he jumped to his feet. “It's about fuckin' time!”

He had scrambled eggs and toast ready in record time and climbed the stairs to Fia's room with them, determined to pretend she hadn't frozen him out yesterday . Knocking on the door, he waited until he heard Fia call out before going in. She was sitting up in bed, her hair damp and face freshly scrubbed.

“Did you really stand in a slippery shower stall in your condition? Fia, you gotta be more careful or you'll hurt yourself even worse!”

“Calm down, it was just a sponge bath.”

“Sponge bath, huh? Sounds fun.” Dean leered at her as he set the breakfast tray down, trying to recapture their playful interactions of the last week.

Fia couldn't bring herself to smile at his attempt, though. “Listen, Dean, we need to talk.”

His heart clenched at her words, but he forced a nonchalant tone. “Yeah? 'Bout what?”

“I know we talked about the possibility of you staying here after the curse, so that we could spend some time together. I think now that's not such a good idea.” Dean started to speak, but Fia held up a hand. “Let me finish, please.” She took a moment to gather her thoughts. “You are an amazing man, with so much to offer if you would only recognize it. But I'm the wrong woman to offer it to. I don't have the capacity to respond with the wholeheartedness that you deserve. It wouldn't be fair of me to pretend otherwise.” Looking up to make sure he understood, she spoke plainly. “So this is it. Our intimate relationship has to be over.”

Even though he'd suspected she would say something of the kind, Dean was shocked by how deeply he felt the stab of grief at hearing the words said. Feeling as if he were in a battle for something vastly important that he couldn't even name, Dean tried to argue. “Why? You're gonna need us to stick around for a few more days. Can't we make the most of those days, at least?” At this point, any concession on her part would be a win in his book.

“I can't, Dean. I just can't. It might not look like it, but I'm in a fight for my life right now.” Her eyes misted over, but she blinked the tears away and continued. “And it's taking all I've got. I don't have anything left for anyone else, including you. I'm sorry, but that's the way it has to be.”

Dean had been ready to work up a good case of mad about her highhanded decision, but Fia's words took the wind out of his sails. He could see the truth of it on her face. He could also see that she was bracing for an argument, marshaling her meager resources so that she could stand firm.

Abruptly abandoning his case, Dean sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. “Okay. If that's what you need, okay. I'll back off. But you're not gettin' rid of me yet. Like I said, you still need some help and we ain't leaving until we know you're gonna be okay.”

More than a little startled by his sudden change of attitude, Fia stared at him blankly for a moment. “Really? You're going to let this go?”

“It's not like I want to, but I do care about you, Fia. It's pretty obvious that you're in a rough spot and the last thing you need is me hassling you about what I want. So we'll do it your way.” The naked relief on her face killed any second thoughts Dean might have had about his reversal. “Now, eat some breakfast, would ya?”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

When Dean brought the empty tray downstairs, the look on his face made Sam sit up in alarm. “What happened?”

“She did it.” Dean's voice was flat. “She broke it off. We're done.”

“Wow.” Sam was staggered. He would have bet the farm his older brother could charm his way out of whatever the trouble was. “Man, Dean, I'm sorry.”

“I'll survive.” Dean headed for the kitchen cupboard where Fia kept her liquor, pouring himself a half-tumbler of a really nice whiskey and taking a large gulp.

“Dude, it's like 9:30!”

“It's past noon in New York. Close enough for me.” Another mouthful.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“I'm fine.” And another.

“Are you sure? That doesn't look like fine.”

“I said I'm fine! Leave it!” Dean replenished his drink, then turned and stalked into the library, leaving Sam staring worriedly after him.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Fia hobbled downstairs late that afternoon, crutch under one arm, stopping on each step to be sure she placed the injured foot correctly before putting weight on it. She was concentrating so fiercely that she didn't notice Sam watching her progress with cautious approval.

“Hey, look at you! Mobile and everything. Must be nice to get out of that bedroom, huh?” Sam got up and crossed the room to give her a careful hug. “Why don't you sit down? Can I get you a cup of coffee or something?”

Steadied by his supportive presence, Fia smiled. “No thanks, I'll get it myself.” She moved toward the kitchen. “You're right, I was starting to feel a little cooped up. It's good to stretch my muscles.” Carefully balancing on one foot, she poured a mug half full of the steaming brew and then slowly began making her way to the kitchen table.

Sam watched with amusement as she obstinately refused to ask for help, instead taking slow half-hops supported by the crutch, with painstaking care to not spill a drop of her coffee. “You know, I could make that go a lot faster if you let me carry your drink.”

Turning to look at him, Fia flashed a smile. “If I can do it myself, I'd rather do it myse...”

At that moment, Dean came barreling out of the library, empty glass in hand, nearly running into Fia. Startled, she fumbled for balance, struggling to keep the weight off her ankle by grasping at her crutch, dropping the mug of coffee in the process. Shards of white ceramic ricocheted through the splashes of hot coffee at her feet.

Before Fia could recover, Dean grabbed her by the arms, holding her upright and resisting the urge to shake her. “What the hell are you doing? You shouldn't be up and about yet!” He turned to Sam. “Why the fuck aren't you helping her? She coulda hurt herself!”

Tightening her grip on the crutch and ignoring the burning liquid spattered over her bare feet, Fia pulled away from Dean with exaggerated dignity and ill-concealed anger. “Don't talk about me like I'm not here, or not able to make my own decisions! See, that's the difference between you and Sam. He respects my right and my ability to take care of myself. You just want to make all my decisions for me!”

“Whoa! Back up there! You told me we were over and I accepted that. I let you make that decision, for both of us. So don't go puttin' all that baggage on me! I just want to make sure you're healthy enough to be on your own. Once I know that, you can go back to making ALL of your own decisions!”

“Tell you what, how about I start with this one? I'm healthy enough to be on my own, starting tomorrow. We all have lives to get back to, right? Sooner rather than later.”

Dean stared down at her. “You gotta be kidding me! We can't leave you here like this, right Sammy?” He looked to his brother for confirmation, unaware of the pleading look Fia sent to Sam.

Shifting uncomfortably, Sam shrugged. “I don't know, man, she seems pretty capable of taking care of herself. And Fia's a smart woman, I think she knows what she can handle and what she can't.”

Throwing his hands in the air in defeat, Dean spun toward the door. “Fine! Just fine!” Turning, he sent a hurt and angry glance at Fia. “I just wanted to protect you, to make you happy. But you're so fuckin' stubborn, you won't let me. I hope you know what you're doing.” He left without another word to either of them.

Without looking at Sam, Fia used a nearby chair along with her crutch to carefully lower herself to the floor, trying to avoid the sharp bits of mug scattered around her. By the time she started picking up the broken pieces, Sam was beside her with a wad of paper towels and the garbage can.

“Damn it, Sam! I can do this myself! I don't need any of you to still be here!”

“Oh yeah?” He gestured at the heel of her uninjured foot, where blood was oozing from a small cut. “How much more blood are you going to lose before you ask for help?”

“All of it!” Sam looked surprised at her vehemence and Fia relented. “I'm sorry. Look, it's not that I don't appreciate everyone's concern. I know you're worried about me, but I promise I'll be alright.”

“I get that you can take care of yourself. What I don't understand is why you're giving us the bum's rush outta here. Are you so stubborn you can't accept help from friends?” As if to prove his point, he bent to continue cleaning up the mess on the floor.

Fia felt a rush of fondness for Sam at that moment. Even with all the darkness of his past, he only ever wanted to help. “It's not that I don't want your help, Sam. It's that my life has been a roller coaster for the last couple of weeks and I'm so turned around, I don't know where I am. I need to be alone for a while, so I can sort things out.” She finished mopping up the last of the coffee and dropped the paper towels into the garbage.

Sam stood and took her arm, helping her to settle into the kitchen chair. “I get that, Fia, I really do. Every once in a while, I need to be alone to clear my head, too.” He sank into the chair opposite. “I'm curious, though, and a little worried about the two of you, so I'm going to overstep my bounds here.” Sam gave her a direct look. “How much of this “ _I vant to be alone_ ” stuff is about getting Dean out of here? What happened there?”

“I'm not going to lie to you, putting some distance between us is a part of it. It's for Dean's good as much as mine.” Fia sighed deeply. “He and I aren't meant to be together and the sooner we both get used to that reality, the better for everyone. Dean's mad about it now, but he'll get over it soon enough, once we're not in each other's faces every day.”

Sam kept his skepticism on that point to himself. “One more thing, and as your friend, I want you to tell me the real truth. Are you really good enough physically to be on your own? I know how easy it is to get mad at Dean's bossiness and make a reckless decision.”

She had to laugh at the world of unspoken history behind that statement. “Ha, I bet you do!” Shaking her head, Fia looked earnestly at Sam. “I promise, I'm not being reckless. The sprain wasn't severe; I'll be off the crutches by tomorrow morning. Everything else is healing well, so there's no real reason for you to worry.”

“Okay, I'll take your word for it. I guess that means we'll be out of here tomorrow.”

“I guess so. Thanks, Sam.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The guys dropped their bags at the front door, then walked into the great room where Bobby sat talking to Fia.

“I guess we're about ready.” Dean couldn't look at her, afraid he'd start an argument. She'd made her decision clear and he was trying to leave with his dignity intact. He focused on Bobby. “You 'bout ready, old man?”

Sighing, Bobby stood up and lent an arm to Fia when he saw her slowly climbing to her feet. “Yeah, I guess so.” He looked at her affectionately. “Fia, it has been an honor and a pleasure to get to know you. You're a rare one and I consider you family now. So you stay safe and stay in touch, alright?” He hugged her, carefully to avoid inciting the lingering bruises on her back, but sincerely nonetheless.

“Oh Bobby, I love you, too!” Fia hugged him back hard. “Thanks for everything.”

“Anytime, kid.” He stepped back to let Sam say his goodbye.

Sam looked down at her. “I'm sure we'll be in touch a lot, and not just because you have more books than God.” He grinned and leaned down to hug her. “Take care of yourself, Fia.”

“You too, Sam.” She held on for a second, whispering in a husky voice. “And take care of him, okay?”

“I will.” Sam smiled encouragingly before turning her loose.

Fia turned to face Dean, but he was glaring at the other two. Glancing their way, she saw that they were waiting expectantly for the goodbye scene. Finally, Dean growled at them. “Take a powder, why doncha?”

With a start, Bobby and Sam came to themselves and hurried toward the door, with embarrassed waves to Fia.

Dean took Fia by the shoulders and gave her a direct look. “I know you're an independent woman and all that, and you can take care of yourself. But you don't have to go it alone anymore. You got friends now, real friends, and anytime you need somethin', you better damn well call us. You hear me?”

“I hear you. And the same goes from this end. You know I'll do whatever I can to help you with the hunting.”

“Yeah, I know you'll do _that_.” Dean couldn't help it, the bitterness seeped into his voice.

“Dean...”

He interrupted her, bending down to give her a quick hug. “I gotta go. Don't tangle with anymore monsters, okay?” With an infinitesimal smile and a last swift glance, he was gone.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Fia sat listening to the car doors close, engine sounds starting and then fading into the distance. Suddenly, the house seemed huge and silent, not at all the safe haven it had always been for her. She wanted to be relieved to be alone again, to have her life back to its carefully ordered normalcy. Instead, Fia felt unsettled and fidgety. Wandering into the kitchen only to discover she had no appetite, she detoured into the library.

She immediately regretted that decision. Everywhere she looked, Fia saw Dean – sitting at the desk, on the couch, reading or talking or laughing – afterimages etched into her heart instead of her eyes.

Fleeing the unwanted memories, Fia found herself on the back porch, smoking a pipe and staring out at the trees over the stream, trying not to think. When that failed, she mentally squared her shoulders and faced up to her own feelings.

She hadn't wanted Dean to go. At the same time, Fia knew that by ending things, she was causing them both pain now to spare them worse in the future. Besides, it wouldn't have been right to let him think that she was the answer to his loneliness. Dean needed to find a woman who could love him without fear. She wasn't that woman.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? The end.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The Impala rolled slowly down the drive toward the gate, Bobby's Chevelle close behind. Dean's face was grim and Sam watched him worriedly as he punched the new remote for the gate and they pulled out onto the private road. He said nothing and only the radio broke the silence.

Haunting guitar strains filled the air. “ _Something in the way she moves...”_ Dean's jaw clenched as he drove on determinedly. “ _I don't want to leave her now...”_ He pressed the accelerator down, flexing his fingers on the steering wheel. '' _You're asking me will my love grow, I don't know, I d...”_

Abruptly, Dean reached down and changed the station, randomly punching buttons until a clear signal came through. _“ ...ward son, there'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more.”_

They were coming up on the intersection with the public road. Without thinking about it, Dean hit the brakes and pulled the Impala to the side of the road, one arm out the window waving Bobby to pull up along side. Turning to Sam, he hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the other car. “Catch a ride with Bobby.”

“Wait, what? What'd I do?!” Sam was bewildered.

“Nah, you didn't do anything.” Dean ran his hands over his face, trying to clear his mind. Lowering them, he looked at Sam. “I just can't leave it like this. I gotta try talking to her one more time.”

Next to them, Bobby honked impatiently and Sam waved a hand at him to wait. “Are you sure that's a good idea? I thought you said you wanted her to make her own decisions?”

“I do! But I got things I never said, so she's making this decision without all the info.” Dean set his jaw. “So I'm goin' back. You go with Bobby, I'll call you and let you know how it went, either way.”

Sam could see Dean's stubborn streak was in full force, so he shrugged and reached for his bag in the back seat. Climbing out, he closed the door and leaned down into the open window. “Break a leg, man. I hope it works out.”

“Yeah, me too.” Dean watched as Sam crossed in front of the Impala and climbed into Bobby's car. After they exchanged a few sentences, Bobby glanced at Dean and gave him an approving nod before pulling away.

Feeling faintly encouraged, Dean waited until they had turned onto the main road, then pulled the Impala around and headed back, tires spraying gravel in his haste.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Fia was just congratulating herself on the complete rationality of her decision when the faint sound of an engine reached her ears. Tamping down on the ridiculous surge of hope that threatened to overturn her carefully constructed edifice of logic, she closed her eyes and tried to summon the resolve she needed to face Dean again without giving in.

Dean figured Fia heard him coming, but he tapped the horn a couple times as he came down the drive just to be sure. Parking the Impala under the dead oak, he saw her limp out onto the porch and sit on the front step.

She spoke casually as he approached, hoping against hope this wasn't what she thought it was. “Forget something?”

“Yeah, I forgot something.” Dean's look was challenging. “I forgot to tell you what I think about you kicking me out.”

“Really, Dean? This again?”

“Don't do that. Don't try to make me defensive so you don't have to hear how I feel.” He held up a hand when she started to speak. “No, just let me say a couple things, then I'll be outta your hair.” Dean rubbed his suddenly sweaty palms on his jeans.

“You changed me, Fia. And I think it was for the better. Call me greedy, but I want more of that. I want more of you. I don't understand how you can just dismiss this connection we have, especially since I can tell you want more of it, too. Don't lie to me and pretend you don't.”

“I won't pretend there's no connection, but it doesn't change anything! In fact, it's part of the problem. I'm not interested in adding a serious relationship to my life. And it's clear that if we go on, I'll get too emotionally involved.”

“I got news for ya, sister. You're already emotionally involved.”

“Not irrevocably.”

That stung. “So I'm just one of those guys who's good enough to let into your bed, but not your life? You know, now that I think about it, I'm startin' to doubt what you told me about 'plenty of men'. You're so damned isolated!” His look was skeptical. “Who were you hooking up with, the pimply clerk you talk to once a week at the grocery store?”

“It's none of your fucking business who or how many people I slept with! And do _you_ really want to start a conversation about how many hook-ups we've had in the last five years? Why would you even bring it up?”

Dean gave her a hard look. “ 'Cause I'm startin' to suspect maybe you aren't as honest as Bobby thinks.”

That hit Fia where she lived and her voice rose another notch. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means that you come off like you're perfectly happy being alone, some kind of evolved guru who doesn't need other people in her life. But that's a lie!” He stabbed a finger in her direction. “You're just as lonely as I am, Fia, except I can admit it!”

“Regardless of what your bruised ego is telling you, I am _not_ lonely! Maybe I just don't want you around anymore, did you ever think of that?”

“That's bullshit and you know it! You're dying out here by yourself. I can see it. Why can't you?”

“And just where exactly do you get off analyzing me?”

Dean ignored the question. “What in the hell are you so afraid of? What is it about a real relationship that scares you so bad you decide to be alone for the rest of your life?”

“I think you should go now!”

“No! You can kick me to the curb in a minute, but right now, I think I deserve some answers! What's really going on here, Fia?”

Ignoring the lingering soreness in her ankle, Fia stood up, staring angrily into his eyes. “Do you really want to know?! The truth? Okay, here it is!” She flung her arms out. “I send people to their deaths!” Whatever Dean might have expected her to say, that wasn't it and he gazed at her in consternation. “There, are you happy? But not just that! Oh no, it couldn't be that simple.” Thumping her chest with one fist, her voice was choked and bitter. “I only send the people I love to their deaths! Isn't that a fun little twist?” Fia laughed sarcastically, and a little hysterically, for a second before getting a grip on herself. She wrapped her arms around her middle and waited for Dean's response.

“What do you mean? Are you cursed?” Dean's anger had shifted to concern.

Finally uttering the words had drained Fia of her agitation and she wearily eased back onto the step. “No, not so far as I can tell.” She sighed resignedly, looking out into the trees. ”I don't know what it is. All I know is that it's true.”

He sat on the step next to her, tentatively putting an arm around her. When she didn't protest, Dean spoke softly. “What makes you say that? Just tell me why you would think so?”

Unable to resist the comfort of his embrace, Fia leaned into him, gathering strength from his nearness. “The pattern is kind of hard to ignore.” She counted off the examples on her fingers. “The first one was my younger sister, Marcail. I was supposed to take care of her, you know?”

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“When they brought her home from the hospital, she was so tiny and helpless and ugly. I fell in love with her instantly, at six years old.” Fia closed her eyes. “I was ten when I forgot to close the patio door and she got out. She fell into the pool and no one noticed.”

That shook him. “God, Fia, I'm so sorry.”

Determined to finish it now, she continued, holding up another finger. “My parents. I was thirteen and off at one of those specialized summer camps for gifted kids. They flew out to visit me and on the way back, their plane went down.” Another finger went up. “Then there's my best friend and her boyfriend in high school, who died in a car wreck on the way to pick me and my date up for prom.”

Her voice was clogged with unshed tears, but Fia pushed on. “And Grandma, who I asked to pick some herbs from the garden while I was cooking, and who had a heart attack in the garden next to the rosemary.”

Dean had to interrupt. “I'll grant you, that's a run of really bad luck. But you didn't kill them, Fia.”

“I know I didn't, but I made sure they were in the right place to meet their deaths.” She took a deep breath, resolved to tell him everything. Holding up her thumb, she looked at him. “There's one more. Jason.”

“Who was Jason?”

“He was my husband.”

Dean did a double-take. “Your husband? You were married? When?”

“He died a little over five years ago. We were married for three years before that.” Fia looked at him with dawning awareness in her eyes. “I just realized that you remind me of him. He was a rescuer, like you are. Only he rescued stray dogs and injured birds, rescued friends when they were stranded or in trouble, rescued me...” She broke off, her throat closing in old grief suddenly fresh again. Swallowing hard, she continued. “He died rescuing someone.”

“What did that have to do with you?”

“He wouldn't have been there if it weren't for me.” There was despair on Fia's face as her eyes grew distant, remembering. “We had a fight that night and we both said some pretty mean things. Finally, he said he needed some air and went out to drive around, to clear his head. He happened to drive past a woman being attacked on a deserted street. It was the middle of the night and there was no one else around, so he stopped and tried to help. The mugger – it turns out it was a mugging gone bad – he panicked and he stabbed Jason with a steak knife.” She turned to Dean in disbelief. “Can you believe that? A fucking steak knife! The guy was obviously no killer, but he managed to nick an artery and Jason bled out on the ground while the woman screamed for help.

“It was so _stupid_! All of it! But one more time, I'd sent someone I loved out to die. Whether I mean to or not, it always happens.” Fia looked back out into the trees, but he could tell she wasn't really seeing them. “And then, after Jason died, his family acted like I had never existed. He never told me they had a problem with my religion.” When she turned back to him, there was anguished confusion in her eyes. “I thought those people _loved_ me. And then they just abandoned me, left me alone again. How do you do that to someone? I don't understand.”

Dean smoothed back her hair and shook his head. “I don't get it either. I do know they didn't deserve you.”

“I guess it doesn't really matter anymore. I still had this place, we'd used it as a vacation house. So I moved back here and I swore to myself that Jason's death would be the _last death_ I would suffer before my own.”

“You know how impossible that is, right?”

“Nothing is impossible, not really. Not if you want it bad enough and you're willing to pay the price for whatever it is. I was doing pretty well. And then this.” Fia nodded toward the dead tree. “I couldn't send him to his death, so I brought his death to him.”

“If I hadn't come here, Oak Friend wouldn't be dead. I did this, not you.”

She looked at him in irritation. “Dean, for good or bad, the world does not revolve around you! You are not the cause of everything bad that happens, even if you happen to be in the vicinity. I didn't have to help Sam in the first place, and I've known the risks of every step I've taken. So hop down off that cross, okay?”

“I could say the same to you! Okay, yeah, maybe you _are_ a tool of fate. But that doesn't mean you're responsible for any of it. I hate to break it to you, but the people you loved were going to die anyway, one way or another. And what happened here just proves that you can't hide from death. It's gonna find you no matter how alone you are. So don't be alone in the meantime. Be with me.”

“I can't.”

“Listen to me, Fia, if I go out and get myself killed, it won't be you that sent me there. It'll be me, because it's what I am. And even if you send me out to the grocery store and I drive off a cliff, I'd still rather be sent there by someone who cared about me than get offed by some nasty-ass monster. So where's the downside?”

Dean could see from her face that Fia hadn't considered that. Pressing his advantage, he went on. “You know, I've been living half a life because I thought that was all I could have. You've been living half a life, too, but you won't let yourself see it.”

“I'm getting by.” But her voice was uncertain.

“Getting by? Fia, if there's one thing you've taught me, it's that survival isn't enough!” He took her hand in his. “Look at us! We both go through life trying to numb the pain. I do it with booze and women, you do it with solitude and pot. It's the same thing, we both end up alone in our isolated little worlds, buried in the grief and regret we're trying to ignore.” Dean regarded her seriously, his eyes demanding that she truly hear what he was saying. “ You know what you did for me? You brought me to life enough to realize how dead I was inside. I think I did the same thing for you. Neither one of us can go back from that, no matter how much you want to.”

Fia felt the rightness of his words in her gut. She couldn't go back. The question now was would she go forward with Dean or without him? The thought terrified her at the same time that it gave her a sense of lightness and freedom that she hadn't felt in too long. Feeling like she was standing at the edge of a cliff, she suddenly became aware of his body next to hers. For the first time in days, a slender thread of desire spiraled through her. Was it really possible for them to be together?

Dean could see the question in her eyes, and the desire. “Isn't it better to be really happy even if it only lasts a little while than to be halfway happy forever?” He put a hand to Fia's cheek. “Just give it a chance. Please.”

She took a deep breath and covered his hand with her own. “Okay.”

“Really?!”

Fia nodded, stricken silent by the enormity of what she was risking.

Dean kissed her, so slowly and tenderly that it brought tears to her eyes.

When they parted, Fia looked at him a little shakily. “I'm scared.”

“You know what? Me, too.” Dean grinned. “But whatever happens later, in the meantime, there's this.” And he bent his head and kissed her again. The kiss held such a quiet intensity of need that Fia felt as if she'd fallen from the precipice into a slow whirlpool of yearning.

She whispered against his lips. “Let's go upstairs.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

In the hush of Fia's room, Dean took her into his arms, carefully, as if he were afraid of startling her into retreating again. But now that the decision was made, Fia held nothing back. This was the man she had chosen to be with, whatever the consequences. She came to him without reservation, wrapping her arms around Dean and pulling him closer. Her face was bright as she smiled up at him.

“Oh, I've missed this!”

“You ain't the only one.” With a flash of gratitude, Dean thought of how close they had come to never holding each other again. His arms tightened and he kissed her hungrily, needing to reassure himself that this wasn't some kind of illusion.

Fia's response obliterated any uncertainty on that point, along with just about every other coherent thought in his head. With wordless haste, they shed their clothes and tumbled into the bed. As they settled into each other's arms, Fia felt that her skin was starving for the touch of his skin. She wrapped herself around Dean, wanting to feel him at every possible nerve ending.

And as if that simple contact were the true goal, their urgency dissipated. They lay there for a long while, reveling in the touch of their hands and the press of their lips. Their leisurely caresses gained intensity, but by unspoken agreement, they drew out the moments, struggling to continue their unhurried explorations.

At last, their hunger for each other, the absolute need for _closer_ , drove Dean to grab a condom from the nightstand and put it on with shaking hands while Fia's mouth roamed impatiently over every bit of him that she could reach.

When Fia finally felt the fullness of him sliding into her, the sheer joy of it, the sense of coming home again, was so great that it startled a low, exultant laugh out of her. She saw the wonder of it reflected in Dean's eyes and in that moment, Fia let go of any doubts she might still have had. It didn't matter what happened in the future, this was too precious to have missed.

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Sam's phone rang.

“Hey Dean! How'd it go?”

“I'm gonna stay here a couple more days, that's how it went.” Sam could hear the smile in Dean's voice.

“Congratulations, man. I think Fia could be really good for you.”

“I think so, too. Hey, though, you call me if you get into anything serious, get me?”

“Yeah, I get you. I've got Bobby as backup, so don't feel like you have to hurry back. We'll call if we need you.”

“Thanks, dude.”

“Say hi to Fia for us!”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

For the next few days, Dean and Fia were hardly out of each other's sight. They bickered and laughed, told stories and secrets, their words constantly underscored by affectionate touches. They took to making meals together, shoulders touching as they stood at the stove or counter. More than once, the meal ended up cold (and in one case, burned) when the companionable atmosphere suddenly became charged, sparked by a heated glance or an unexpected kiss. By the end of the fourth day, however, Fia could see that he was getting restless.

“What's on your mind, Dean? You hardly touched your lasagna.”

He glanced up from his dinner, rueful. “I was just wonderin' if Sam's working a job yet. That kid could find trouble in a convent.” Dean smirked at her. “Matter of fact, so could I.”

“Don't I know it.” Fia grinned back.

“Thing is, I kinda feel like I should get back out there. I been outta the game a long time and people might be dying that I could save.”

“And you're worried about Sam. I understand.”

“You're not mad?”

“To be honest, Dean, I'm surprised you held out this long.” She braced herself. “So, tomorrow then?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Then let's make tonight count. Soaking tub?”

He pushed back his chair. “You read my mind!”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Dean decided to put off leaving until the next evening, so they could have a few more hours together. It wasn't until early in the afternoon that Fia realized what day it was - the Autumn Equinox, the pagan holy day known as Mabon. She'd been so wrapped up in Dean that she had forgotten. Not too late, though.

Fia turned to where Dean was sitting next to her. He'd insisted on lunch in the gazebo, in spite of the drizzle that was falling. “Since you're going to be here at sunset, would you like to celebrate the Equinox with me?”

He looked up warily from scratching Liath under the chin. “I don't know. What exactly does that mean?”

Rolling her eyes at his residual superstition regarding witches, Fia launched into a description. “I like to do a simple sunset ritual. I'll decorate an altar with foods from my garden, maybe bake a loaf of bread. I light a candle, smoke a pipe, and count my blessings. Then I sacrifice a live squirrel to the great god Chaos in return for unlimited power.” She managed to keep a straight face until he whirled around with an appalled look that sent her into gales of laughter. Fia wiped tears from her eyes, chuckling. “Oh my gods, you are so _gullible_!”

Dean frowned at her. “Ha ha, very funny. Now tell me the truth.”

“Well, up until the squirrel bit, that is the truth. Nothing scary or weird, just one of the spokes on the Great Wheel of the seasons.” Fia looked down at the apple slice in her hand. “It's a harvest festival, primarily, to express gratitude for the gifts of the earth. And it's about balance, when day and night are equal, when we honor the dark as well as the light. For me, it's always been about beginnings and endings.”

“In that case, I would be honored to celebrate with you.”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The skies cleared and as the sun neared the horizon, Dean watched while Fia arranged the last of the fruits and vegetables on a low table she had placed at the base of Oak Friend. Motioning him to stand next to her, she lit the candle that sat in the hurricane lamp before lighting her pipe. Fia inhaled deeply and passed the pipe to Dean, who took it as he slid his other arm around her and pulled her close to his side.

They smoked silence for a minute, looking out into the forest. When Fia spoke, her tone was conversational. “I'm not really formal when it comes to these things. I don't have a script or even a ritual, per se.” She looked up at Dean. “Since I'm usually alone, I tend more toward a silent meditation. But it's good to say these things out loud, too.” Glancing at the bounty on her altar and then up at Oak Friend, she continued. “On this day, I am grateful for all that life has given me. I am grateful for the food and the love that the earth provides for her children. I am grateful for the dark times in my life as agents of the growth that magnifies the brighter times. I am grateful that Oak Friend wasn't alone when he died.” Fia looked back at Dean. “And I am grateful that this man found his way into my life.” Stretching up, she pressed a soft kiss to his mouth.

Putting his arms around her, Dean's face was serious. He tilted his head at Oak Friend. “I'm grateful that no one else got killed and you didn't get hurt as bad as you could've. I'm grateful you took an asshole stranger into your home and helped him figure some things out. But most of all, I'm grateful that you, Fia, didn't give up and you agreed to give this a shot.” He kissed her and started to let her go, but then pulled her back into his arms. “Oh, and pie! I'm grateful for pie.”

Fia laughed quietly as they walked hand in hand the few steps to where the Impala sat waiting. She hugged him hard before eyeing him sternly. “I swear, if you go out there and get killed now, I will go directly to the nearest crossroads and bring you back to life. So unless you want my soul on your conscience, don't get dead.”

Dean turned to respond, but the last rays of sun fired a flash of green on the far side of Oak Friend. _What's that? He can't still be alive, can he?_

Without a word, he hastened around the broad trunk, leaving Fia standing next to the car, staring open-mouthed after him.

“Fia, come over here!” As she approached, Dean looked at her with something akin to awe in his eyes. “Check that out!”

Glancing to where he pointed, Fia stopped short. There in the ground next to the withered tree was an oak sapling, no more than a year old, one green leaf shining in the sunlight among the faded gold of the rest. Looking at it, Fia was flooded with an awareness of the cycle of life, death, and rebirth, in all its harmony and its balance. It felt like a promise. With a radiant smile, she turned to Dean and kissed him with all the joy that was in her soul at that moment.

Never one to pass up an opportunity, Dean kissed her back, storing up impressions against the coming separation. Eventually, though, Fia pulled back and looked up at him. “Go. And come back soon.”

“I will.” He kissed her one more time before climbing into the driver's seat. Dean took her hand through the open window. “Take care of yourself. Don't be alone too much.” Their hands slid apart as the Impala inched forward, until with a last brush of the fingertips, they were separated. Fia stood watching the taillights recede into the dark forest as the last rays of the sun sank into the west.

“Goddess, watch over him.”

 

THE END

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading Gimme Shelter! If you enjoyed reading it half as much as I enjoyed writing it, I'll be thrilled! This was the story that made me realize how much I love to write - in spite/because of how hard it is. I miss having these two in my head, so I'm pretty sure there will eventually be a sequel (no promises as to when, though).  
> As all writers do, I LOVE feedback! Anything you wanna say about my writing, I wanna hear. So let loose and tell me what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments, questions, and critiques are always welcome. Seriously, tell me all the things, good and bad!


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